


You Don’t Need the Coat Cas

by RealLifeFraggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Antique Shopping, Ass Play, Beefy Cas, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Dean Winchester Has a Panty Kink, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Flashbacks, Furniture Shopping, Hand Jobs, Happy, Happy Ending, Hugs, IKEA Furniture, Idiots in Love, Kind Dean, Love, Lube, M/M, Original Character(s), Panty Kink, Shopping, Table Sex, They Actually Talk About Feelings, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, ass eating, messy sex, they communicate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 14:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21282899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealLifeFraggle/pseuds/RealLifeFraggle
Summary: Cas and Dean have survived the apocalypse. They are finally free to be together and their friends and family are relieved!They find the perfect house in the perfect small town and begin to build their life. Gone are the days of watching their backs, sacrifices and saving the world, now they face the new challenges of managing finances, decorating and nosey neighbours.With the help of Sam and some other familiar faces Cas and Dean recall their past and how they ended up living their dream life. They learn how to move on from the traumas they have experienced together while a new world order blossoms around them.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 54
Kudos: 110





	1. Identity

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the world of fiction. 
> 
> I have to begin by thanking Drula who has added ideas, mercilessly edited passages and given feedback the entire way. I should also apologise to her for the same reasons, as on occasions I have sidestepped her advice and caused her to shake her fists at me in utter annoyance. For this I can only say I am stubborn but still VERY grateful for your help! This ship sails because you put the wind in its sails, if it sinks then its my fault for not plugging the holes!!
> 
> Also big thanks to my friend E, who thought up most of the tags. Shes a genius. Legit genius.
> 
> Not to make excuses but I haven't written anything creative in a long, long time, and nothing of this length before. Its imperfect, I know. Please read it with a kind heart and enjoy the tone. The intention here is for the reader to feel the healing that Cas and Dean go through. Hopefully, if you do, some of that healing may rub off on you, if you need it. I hope so.

“We’ll take it.”

Castiel stood with his hands dropped to his sides, chin tilted upwards while his normally attentive blue eyes danced and gazed over the architrave surrounding the ceiling. His eyebrows raised into the arched lines of his perpetually furrowed brow while his lips sat straight and motionless after making their announcement. The young realtor bristled to attention and a wide, relieved smile spread across her face as she nervously began to shuffle papers in her leather-bound folder.

“Cas, are you sure? I mean… Can we afford this?”

Dean held his breath and leaned tentatively against the doorframe behind him, crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto one leg with a wince. Castiel was still standing stock still, looking at the ceiling like he had never seen one before. Even though he had been human for 10 months now he was still unpractised in the finer art of social interaction and was seemingly unaware of the giddy realtor dropping papers and business cards over the staircase as she dug deeper into her mismanaged files. Dean usually found the trench coat and stillness comforting, same old Cas, but times had changed and right now he needed a little more from his boyfriend.

“Cas?!”

Drawing in a breath a smile began to form on the new human’s face. Slowly he turned his head to the realtor and with crinkled eyes and as wide a smile as he could muster sighed “Please excuse my partner, he has commitment issues.”

Castiel could feel the look Dean was giving him burn into the side of his skull. Castiel doesn’t always judge these things well, with a slight note of panic he snapped his head around to seek out the level of damage his comment had caused. Dean was staring right at him, arms crossed, tapping his foot. Lips pursed into a pout, and brows raised pointing inward displaying a look of disdain. The attempt was futile though, the softness in his eyes was still there, gold flecked green eyes unable to hide the approving smile forming in the corners of his mouth. Feeling satisfied that he was out of the danger zone Castiel turned back to the realtor.

“Forgive me, this is all new to me.”

“No! No! Its absolutely fine I can talk you through all of it, that’s exactly what I’m here for!” The realtor cheerily stuttered at them both. She finally seemed to have the piece of paper she had been fumbling for before and was gripping it tightly in her left hand as she scribbled a note onto a post-it.

Dean huffed a laugh from the corner of the hallway. “We both need all the help we can get. Well… Cas more than me.”

Castiel felt his eyes roll into the back of his head, an automatic reaction Dean could easily provoke from him. He had to let that one go though, it was only fair.

The realtor really was true to her word, she did take care of everything. The next few weeks flew by in a panic evoking trauma the Winchesters had only ever experienced during an apocalypse. Dean felt it would be easier to manage a demon deal than the paperwork and hassle that accompanied buying a house. It was a shame Crowley wasn’t around anymore, he would have been able to land them a palace for the price of a few favours which the boys inevitably would have wriggled out of.

Eventually documents were signed. Fake but nevertheless convincing identification documents were issued. Forgery had been a part of their lives for so long now they no longer had any trepidation about arranging this. Dean had arranged ID for himself in his real name. For the first time “Dean Winchester” would be a home owner. He had of course taken the opportunity to tweak his identity slightly by changing his birth date and state. Luckily he managed to intercept the instruction Sam gave to their forger to “Age him up.” Dean had managed to shave a decent 22 months off his legal age, a feat he was somewhat overly proud of.

Creating Castiel had been a far bigger challenge than he had anticipated. How do you age an angel? It didn’t feel right using Jimmy Novak’s birth date or name. Besides Jimmy was still technically a missing person and they were trying to avoid unwanted attention. Nobody wanted to be reminded of the vessel situation. It was something they had managed to come to terms with over time, but not in a way that allowed it to be discussed openly, especially whenever Claire came to visit, which was rare but something that would make Castiel’s eyes spark whenever it happened. Castiel was no use in this process. He showed little interest or imagination and would only grunt or look quizzically at Dean’s suggestions.

Of course to Dean the answer was obvious. He had done everything he could think of to convince Castiel to use Winchester as his new surname. What else were they supposed to use? Castiel narrowed his eyes as Dean had read through his list of favourite rock star aliases, clearly none of them appealed to him. This was becoming frustrating. If Cas would just agree to the family name things would move along much more quickly. Eventually Dean had passed this task on to Sam to complete. Castiel was being an ass and hopefully Sam would see that and stick him with the ID of a fifty two year old called Bernard McHump. That would teach him.

“But Cas it makes sense, you’re family. You’re a Winchester.”

Castiel knew how genuine this was, he knew how important this was to both Sam and Dean, but he had his reasons, and for now they were staying under wraps. He wasn’t brave enough yet.

“I know that Sam. That isn’t a question to me anymore. Everything you have done for me… Everything you have both done for me over the last year it’s been more than I ever deserved.”

Sam’s shoulders fell as he finally gave in to the reality that this conversation wasn’t moving on. Once Cas started on his self-deprecating discourse there was no talking to him. He tapped his fingers lightly against his forehead and lifted his eyes underneath them looking to make contact with his dear friend, his family.

“O.K. Cas. You win. No _Win_chester, but we need to choose something man. Garth says we need to make the drop for these documents by midnight or else it’s a no go. I need you to give me something.”

Castiel peered into the coffee cup cradled in his hand. His lips drew together tightly and his eyelids fluttered closed for a second.

“If you don’t say something in the next 10 seconds then it’s going down as McHump, I hate to do it to you man I really do…”

Opening his eyes Cas shook his head and let out a gruff laugh at the sight of Sam grinning with his fingers hovering exaggeratedly over the laptop keyboard. Sam’s humour was kinder than Dean’s, not as relentless and certainly not as risky. Issuing a name like McHump was something Sam would almost certainly do to Dean but not to Cas. They both knew this.

“Shurley.”

Cas nodded with certainty at Sam who was now sitting with his mouth agape across the table.

_“Shurley?”_

Sam repeated, his eyes now matching the drop of his jaw in width.

“Well my father is God, and God is Chuck Shurley, so it makes sense that I would be Shurley too.”

Sam’s gaze averted back to the laptop screen and his back stiffened and shoulders twitched as he stuttered to form a response.

“Shurley you can’t be serious?” boomed from further back down the bunker corridor as Dean swaggered into view, beer crate in one hand and the remains of a sandwich in the other.

“You could use a plate for that.” Castiel chided as Dean dropped a beer in front of his brother. This observation from his lover only caused Dean to stuff the bread, cheese and maybe pastrami, but most probably bacon, into his mouth in one go. It shouldn’t be possible for a human to have that amount of food in their mouth, be able to chew _and_ grin like an idiot at the same time, but this was Dean Winchester; the man Castiel had raised from perdition 12 years ago and shared a profound bond with. Right now Castiel was considering the mix of mustard and mayonnaise dripping from the corners of Dean’s mouth and hoping they wouldn’t reach his shirt. That would make laundry day a nightmare for him.

Reaching for the beer bottle Sam blinked at Dean, raising his eyebrows and scrunching his nose as if he was stifling a sneeze. Dean discovered the escaping mustard from his lips and grabbed an opened envelope from the table to wipe it away with, catching his brother’s gaze as he continued to chew and wipe his mouth.

“What?”

Dean assumed this was judgement for being a slob but Sam would have called him out for that directly, instead Sam leaned on one elbow, head nodding in Castiel’s direction, eyebrows signposting that Dean needed to make further comment on this name situation.

“I think it’s great.”

Sam was now giving Dean very clear stink eye. Dean rolled his eyes and swallowed the remainder of the sandwich.

“Look I’m just happy to get things moving. Winchester, Page, Bonham, Shurley, whatever. It doesn’t matter. You’re still Cas. I’m not going to be calling you Mr Shurley am I?”

Castiel straightened in his seat and looked up into Dean’s eyes. Rising slowly out of the chair Cas tilted his head to the side as he grew to almost match Dean’s height. His gaze dropped from long eyelashes, over cheekbones to Dean’s lips.

Shit. Dean mused inwardly. Intense Cas is the hottest thing Dean has ever seen and the little fucker had no idea the mess it made in Dean’s head.

Cas breathed in through his nose and lifted a hand to Dean’s face. Closing his eyes was involuntary, inevitable even, those lips couldn’t be resisted, especially when he knew exactly how they felt pressed against his own and when they are stretched around –

“Do you really need this many condiments in one sandwich?”

Dean felt a rough swiping across his bottom lip and chin as Cas cleared up the remaining mustard mess from his chin.

“And maybe I _will_ make you call me Mr Shurley.” Cas tossed the used napkin onto the table and snapped his eyes back to Dean who was now rubbing his chin from the rough clean up treatment.

“Over my dead body.” Dean grumbled as he pouted at the loss of his moment of intimacy. Cas leaned forward and bumped his nose to the side of Dean’s laying a perfectly chaste, light kiss on his freckle dusted cheek.

“Dead bodies? We don’t want any repeats of that sweetheart.”

Dean didn’t have time to protest at the use of “Sweetheart” in front of his brother, Cas was already simultaneously pulling Dean’s hips closer to his own as he pressed his lips against his mouth. Gently skimming the tip of his tongue over Dean’s bottom lip he turned his head to fit into his lover’s space to allow for more movement between them. Dean’s lips quirked a smile at the corners as he returned the gesture and began to press and pull at Castiel’s top lip.

“So, umm, I’m submitting Shurley then.” Sam stammered from his seat at the Map table. It was pointless, there was no response. Dean and Cas were moving backwards down the bunker corridor now hands tugging at belts.

“Thanks for the beer!” Sam saluted with his beer bottle to the sight of his brother dragging his boyfriend to his bedroom.

“I’ll just carry on with sorting your lives out for you.” Sam looked back to his laptop and grabbed his phone, scrolling down to find Garth’s number.


	2. Finding Home

Dean sat at Baby’s wheel drumming his fingers lightly against the leather trying to distract himself from the goings on in the realtor’s office. This was his fault. Castiel and Sam had both warned that parking was going to be an issue during rush hour. Dean hated double parking, not out of concern for parking violations but because it was highly possible some asshole might barrel into his Baby as she sat idling in the street. They should have left earlier. They would have left earlier if Dean hadn’t left sorting through Mary’s belongings till the last minute. Sam and he had always had their own keepsakes for their Mom. Dean had his small photograph collection which he had treasured throughout his life, but after Mary’s return to life and subsequent death there were new things, small trinkets, clothing, keepsakes that they had left in her room at the bunker and not got around to sorting out. Organising this had been something he and Sam had agreed on as part of the move, and he had to do it today or it just wouldn’t happen at all. It had taken longer than anticipated; they had almost silently moved through the boxes together with the occasional “You want this?” thrown at each other. By the time they had finished it was over an hour later than he and Cas had planned to go and pick the keys up.

If Sam was going to have any chance of recruiting hunters into his training programme he needed all the room the bunker could provide and it needed to feel like a place of business, Mary’s room had to go. Sam didn’t want to have disgruntled hunters living on top of each other. The bunker was a stop gap and safe house for others, not their home, but it needed to offer some comfort. The less time they spent cooped up together the less chance of anyone getting too attached and feeling obligated to one another. Rooms were there to be let and create income. Sam was even considering moving out himself and commuting to the bunker every day. It’s not like he enjoyed living there anyway, too many memories attached, and not all good ones, but it was still an invaluable resource as a research centre and being a Winchester meant being a legacy, so Men of Letters or not the bunker remained their responsibility.

Hunting is still a high risk career path and the mortality rates unappealing. Dean could only retire completely because since the last time the world almost ended his leg had never entirely recovered. Cas had lost his grace before the injury and hadn’t been able to heal him. Dean didn’t get medical help because his focus, his attention, call it what you will, his everything had been for Cas during those days. Dean knew he could count on Cas, but what he had done for him, for them, for the world that day had been incomprehensible. How could anyone be so selfless? Why did it take him so long to realise Cas was his entire world?

Dean wasn’t as fast as he had once been and his endurance was even worse than his speed. If he couldn’t physically keep up with Sam then he was a danger to him. Cas being human was a deciding factor in retirement, not that he ever admitted that to him. It wasn’t pride that held this information back, Cas was so used to blaming himself for everything wrong with the world that Dean wasn’t about to add to that. He wasn’t going to admit that Cas being in the line of fire as a mortal terrified him. He’d seen Cas beaten and bloodied on many occasions, sometimes even at his own hand, but he could always recover from it in seconds. Not anymore. He was as fragile as everyone else now. Not that you would think that by looking at him.

Humanity worked well on Cas this time around. Cas was well-fed, tanned and had taken to working out. His arms were now far more muscular than when they had first met and his thighs had thickened to a point that made Dean’s pulse race every time his eyes helplessly skimmed over them.

Apparently the staff in the realtor’s office had also noticed the pleasing aesthetic of Castiel’s physique. Dean wound the rain spackled windows of the Impala down and ducked his head to get a better eye line into the window of the office. Cas, clueless Cas, was standing in the doorway dutifully nodding as a middle aged woman with salt and pepper hair swept into a loose bun hung off his arm while looking up at him through her wide rimmed glasses, exaggeratedly waving a set of keys in front of his nose.

“Just grab the damn keys and walk.” Dean hissed under his breath as he jerked his head to check in the car mirrors for potential asshole drivers. The door to the realtor’s office swung open and Cas stepped out into the drizzle while his enthusiastic helper grabbed an umbrella adorned with the company logo and swung it above their heads.

“No don’t let her walk with you!” he muttered as Cas and the woman approached the car. Cas was almost bent double in an attempt to match the height of his companion under the umbrella. Both stopped at the window and ducked to meet Dean.

“I was telling Mr Shurley that it really wasn’t necessary to drop by the office. One phone call and we would have met you at the house for handover.”

The woman was still clinging to Castiel’s arm whilst balancing the large umbrella in her other hand which was now bouncing off Baby’s roof. Dean gritted his teeth and grimaced at Castiel. An assault on Baby was something that Castiel was able to recognise as a red flag so he swiftly practiced his professional and polite conversation ending.

“Its fine Mrs Deichman, really, now we must be on our way, we have family waiting for us. Thank you for your assistance.” Cas lightly picked up her hand from his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting it drop and darting around to the passenger side of the car. Dean needed no further indication that it was acceptable to leave and quickly shouted his thanks and goodbye as he rolled the window back up to closed. Castiel was barely in the passenger side as Dean started to pull away from his illegal parking spot.

Dean stifled a small laugh as he looked back at a forlorn Mrs Deichman in the car mirror.

“I think she’s going to miss you” he chuckled as the Impala’s engine purred into full power. He turned his head to the other side of the car expecting to see Castiel’s clueless expression but instead saw light glinting off slick silver. Dean’s breath hitched as he was taken back to the trauma of battle, watching the swing and slice of an angel blade piercing and destroying demon and angel alike. With a quick jingle Dean snapped out of his nightmare and realised Cas was holding their new house keys aloft. Dangling them by the round silver ring they were attached to from the end of his forefinger, glistening wet from the rain. Cas was gazing at them like seeing a shooting star, a smile crept over his lips and softly he moved them between his fingers making the metal sing against itself and then no louder than a whisper

“We’re going home Dean.”


	3. Moving Out, and In

The rain had gradually faded away to a light mist by the time they reached their house. _Their house_. Baby’s wheels gracefully bumped along the slightly uneven asphalt of the driveway as Dean pulled her to a stop.

“You not going to put her in the garage?” Castiel chirped, his voice higher than normal as he looked to Dean for a response.

“Nope. There’s no way we’re cooking tonight and I’m gunna be starvin’ so keep her here for now in case we need to make a run.”

Dean opened the car door and slowly exited, breathing in his new surroundings and letting his eyes absorb the different shades of green in the garden that hugged the sides of the house with its abundance of shrubbery. Castiel found Dean’s eyes and smiled as he realised they were both doing the same thing.

“We have a garden” he chimed, letting a chuckle escape on the last syllable. “I don’t think an angel has had a garden since Eden.” Castiel looked positively giddy.

“The angels didn’t own Eden did they?” this couldn’t be mistaken for a genuine question as Dean’s face was exaggerated into some form of over-interest.

“Hush. Don’t spoil my moment” Cas pushed the passenger door shut as he continued to smile at the sight of the grey and white building before them. Dean had seen Cas like this before, when they took a vacation a few months back and stayed in a hotel instead of a motel. Most people would have been awestruck at the majesty of the Bermuda coastline but apparently if you were present during its creation a double bed and a stocked mini bar has a deeper effect. In any case that look was adorable, human Cas, baby Cas discovering his world and allowing it to grow around him. Dean had been concerned that this may all become too much for Cas. The last time he had been human the experience had been traumatic; homelessness, hunger, poverty, threat, abandonment not to mention being tricked into sex by a reaper. Most of that felt like Dean’s own fault. He had been the one to turn his back on Cas because of his own stupid decisions. He would never forget that feeling of regret as he had dropped him back at that Gas ‘n Sip. He never should have done that. Dean shuddered at the memory, he was learning to put these things behind them. They all were. Each one of them had made mistakes, but that is what people do, hell, that is what families do.

The sound of wheels on concrete made the pair turn and look back at the driveway. A sensible looking silver hybrid pulled in behind Baby and Dean protectively moved towards the trunk and held his hands up warding the car away from getting any closer. The car jerked to a stop and Sam swung the door open rolling his eyes in Dean’s direction.

“I can park a car you know? Hell, I’ve parked that car more times than I can remember!” he gestured wildly towards the black muscle car as his own car blipped its locking mechanism.

“Hey, I’m a grown up. Got me a boyfriend _and_ a house. I have to take precautions now” Dean grinned wildly at his announcement.

“That’s why we both got tested.” Castiel deadpanned as his contribution to the conversation.

“Ew, Dude, I did not need to… Oh God” Sam shook his head and put his hands over his face as Dean broke out into hyena level laughter at his brother’s embarrassment. Castiel was a diamond sometimes.

“Although I really feel that as someone who used to be filled with heavenly grace it really wasn’t necessary for me to-“ Dean cuts his diamond off before old wounds are opened up needlessly.

“Yeah not the point Halo, where are those keys? How about we show Sammy the new casa?”

Dean gracelessly bounced from room to room inside the small 2 storey building, shouting out every obvious feature of each room as he went and naming each room’s purpose to his patient younger brother. Castiel trailed behind the pair enjoying Dean’s enthusiasm. When they had viewed the property Dean had practiced his best poker face, he had told Castiel this was a ploy to prevent the realtor from believing they were keen on the house, which they were. Dean had audibly gasped in Castiel’s ear when he first saw the parallel sash windows in the master bedroom, but other than that he had kept his excitement under wraps, clearly saving it for once they knew it belonged to them.

Castiel watched Sam dutifully inspect the drywall at Dean’s insistence and listened as Dean knocked on the walls to demonstrate the solid structure behind them. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shower screen while Dean explained the virtues of a copper shower head to a soft eyed Sam who was clearly doing his best to stay interested in the minutiae of the small bathroom.

Castiel had first taken Jimmy’s vessel 12 years ago, he had grown used to it, the blue eyes, dark hair, broad shoulders and slim waist. Vessels don’t age, and angels generally don’t have any preference for the human form, so he had never really considered his looks until now. This vessel, this body Castiel now had wasn’t Jimmy Novak. This had been built for him in Jimmy’s likeness, except it was ageing as a human should and Castiel had adopted a lifestyle which reflected his preference for fitness and care. He was bigger now than Jimmy had been. His hair was greying at the sides, he allowed the hair on his chin and neck to grow into a short prickly stubble, also peppered with lighter hairs. This new reflection was a different one to what he had grown used to. It belonged to him, and he needed to care for it, invest in it. He needed to be alive as long as possible. He didn’t want to waste another minute without Dean.

“Yes, you’re still handsome!”

Castiel’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up as he was startled from his quiet contemplation by Dean’s grinning face in place of his own in the shower screen. From the other side of the glass Dean pressed his nose against the pane and blew air into his open cheeks as his lips suckered onto the glass, giving Sam and Cas a full view of his chipmunk blowout, teeth and gums on display as his eyes crossed and nose squished against the glass.

“As are you Dean.”

The opportunity for Castiel to add any further tease or insult to his reply was cut off when there was a loud knock at the front door and the bell began to ring repeatedly.

“That’ll be Garth with the bed!”

Dean leapt from the shower cubicle, making Sam and Cas scatter out of his way, Cas just keeping his balance, Sam unsuccessfully keeping himself upright against the wall mounted towel heater. A heavy thudding echoed throughout the house as the overexcited Winchester puppy bounded down the stairs calling out to Garth on the way.

Cas leaned over to help Sam up from his fallen spider position on the floor. Pushing his hair back from his eyes and looking red in the cheeks Sam straightened out his jacket over his orange plaid shirt and silently shook his head as he shook some feeling back into his feet. Castiel bit the inside of his cheek to stifle the laugh trying to work its way from inside. Sam had to be the world’s best example of self-control, it was obvious that Sam wanted to run after Dean and wrestle him into the floor for knocking him down so unceremoniously, but he also understood, he cared, that this was a big day for Dean and was making allowances.

The front door was slung open by the time Cas and Sam descended the short staircase. Dean’s voice drifted through the open door, the words indistinguishable at this distance but the tone unmistakably irked at something, delivering short sharp replies to Garth’s whiny responses and then growing into a tirade of fucks and “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”s. Cas and Sam looked at each other hesitantly before stepping through the door into the neat, shrub filled garden, Sam muttering under his breath something about Garth being his own worst enemy.

“You FOLDED it. You fucking folded it. They are supposed to be rolled genius! Not folded. It’ll never lie flat again!”

Garth flipped his cap off his head into his hands and scratched at the now straggled hair underneath while Dean stood bow legged at the side of his truck waving his arms animatedly at the lump of mattress folded and tied down by ratchet straps and loosely covered with a tarpaulin.

“But its memory foam? It’ll remember what shape it needs to be, that’s the whole point. Ain’t it?”

With his jaw almost hitting the sidewalk and all of the air leaving his lungs at the same time Dean snapped his head back around to Garth and marched the two feet of distance between them until they were nose to nose. Cas realised that Garth’s response was definitely the clumsiest thing he could have said at that point. He looked to Sam who appeared to be in agreement as he was making his way over to help his scrawny friend from being turned into his brother’s chew toy. Cas was beginning to make tracks to follow him when some movement in his peripheral vision made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He no longer had the same responses as an angel but in human terms he was razor sharp at picking up on hidden sounds and actions, a by-product of his former life that he was glad to have retained; to some degree at least. Cas turned his head fully and saw an elderly lady against the other side of the fence, gardening gloves on her hands and pruning shears poised over a large bush, which was already immaculately manicured. The absence of trimmings falling from the bush gave away that she was not participating in gardening activities but was clearly masterminding a domestic ruse in order to spy on her new neighbours.

Cas looked over at the scene unfolding before him, Dean was now holding the front of Garth’s shirt in both fists and Sam’s arms were flailing as he tried to prise them in-between the dumb hunters. Wincing and gritting his teeth together Cas realised that this was one of those moments where social niceties were probably needed to reassure his new neighbour, who was now standing with her body facing one direction as her head was turned almost 180 degrees in the other to watch the unfolding dramatics of the mattress argument. Castiel didn’t need super sharp people skills to realise the look of abject horror on her face. Taking a deep breath he started taking some steps towards her, panic building inside him as his mind tried to recall every conversational script he had memorised for himself over the years. Unfortunately most of his human conversations had been almost exclusively with hunters or Winchesters, and he was aware this this didn’t exactly perfectly equip him for polite society.

“So are you boys all moving in together?”

Cas was relieved that the plump, rosy face scattered with wrinkles had chosen to make the first move.

“Uhh, yes. Well not all of us. Just me and my boyfriend”

The pruning shears were lowered from their position of pretence and her face softened into a kind, warm smile.

“That’s nice dear. The tall handsome one I assume?” she pointed the shears into the vague direction of all three men still wrangling at each other with no sign of winding down.

“Yes.” Cas replied looking over his shoulder at the exact point Dean chose to jump onto the back of Garth’s truck yelling something about “Shoulda just done it myself.” With seemingly no after affects from the verbal tussle Garth followed and began to pull at the tarpaulin, causing Dean to shoot looks at him that would render a Rugaru useless. Satisfied that his brother was no longer in danger of committing a murder Sam began the short wander over to Castiel and the new neighbour.

“Well here he is, the man of the hour! So what’s your name honeypie?” the woman placed her fisted hand provocatively into her ample sized hip and dropped the shears on the ground in favour of flipping a wisp of her hair away from her face.

With a flush of pink to his cheeks Sam smiled nervously and jerkily offered his hand over the fence to her as he introduced himself.

“And I didn’t get your name?” she sweetly jingled at Castiel, although he was clearly an afterthought at this point as her gaze was laser focused on Sam, scanning him from head to toe, her head dropping to the side as she considered his shoulders.

“Castiel. Umm… Castiel Shurley.”

Cas looked at Sam for approval but Sam was caught in the gaze of their interrogator, looking as uncomfortable as the time Rowena had labelled him as “Fuck” in a game of fuck, marry, kill.

“Well my name is Missy Clement. No need to call me Miss or Mrs, Missy is my actual name, so no formalities now you two are my new neighbours.”

Sam coughed himself into correcting Missy’s error with a look of glee on his face reminiscent of a mouse outsmarting a trap.

“No I’m not with Cas, Cas is my… My brother Dean over there, he and Cas…” Sam pointed over to Dean who was now single-handedly trying to haul the mattress from the back of the truck, pushing Garth back with swift kicks every time he manoeuvred to help.

“Oh, but you said the tall and handsome one was your boyfriend?” Missy mused at Cas, throwing a wink at Sam and ignoring the genuine attempt Cas made to gain eye contact with her. Cas furrowed his brow and defensively narrowed his lips.

“Well I think Dean is handsome, and he is tall, he’s taller than me. Sam is just extraordinarily tall.” Cas retorted, a hint of annoyance in his voice as he looked between Missy and her bitten lips leaning her bodyweight against the fence towards a retreating Sam.

“That he is.” Missy hummed. “What a _tragedy_ that you’re single after all honeypie!” her hand moved from her hip to curl up under her chin while she rested her elbow on the edge of the fence.

“I… Uhhhh…” eyes darting wildly in every direction but Missy’s Sam grabs Castiel by the elbow and starts to stumble backwards. “Anyways, we should go help Dean, lovely to meet you Missy!” the last part of the sentence sounding more like the squawk of a distressed parrot than a fully grown man.

Hurriedly Sam and Castiel caught up with Dean who had succeeded in lugging the mattress from the back of the truck but was now sprawled underneath the mattress on what little lawn the garden contained at the front of the house, still shouting from underneath at Garth that he didn’t need his fucking help. Sam and Castiel exchanged looks of exasperation as they both grabbed an end of the mattress and lifted to free the stubborn, squashed man-child underneath.


	4. Bedtime

A thick line of a bump lay horizontally across the middle of the mattress which was now laid directly on the floor of the grey carpeted bedroom. Stomping up the stairs with handfuls of bedding Dean muttered to himself about twisting Garth’s –something- until it burst and –something- all over his knees. Castiel couldn’t make it out exactly but he got the gist.

“We don’t have to stay here tonight, we could go back to the bunker. Sleep on a real bed?”

It was an offer Cas knew Dean wasn’t about to take up, his mind was set on them spending the night together in their new home. Dean had packed some essentials to see them through to the morning, and had bought a new coffee machine, plates, cups and some old pans from the bunker so breakfast could be fixed in the morning. There was no furniture of their own yet to furnish their few rooms. The mattress had been hauled into the bedroom, and placed carefully in the centre of the room. Cas had used the bedding and pillows as makeshift seating while they ate the promised diner food Dean had eventually picked up. Dean had spent the entire time sulking about his mattress, his toddler like excitement had clearly waned.

“We’re staying here. It’ll be fine.”

Dean heaved a sigh of discontent as he tried to smooth the fitted sheet over the centre of the mattress, the lump springing up as soon as he pressed it down. Grabbing the large holdall he had packed earlier that morning Cas pulled out his sleep shorts and tee shirt which Dean had bought him for Christmas a month earlier. The font on the black tee mimicked that of the Coca-Cola brand and in oversized lettering spelt out in fancy italics “Cock, taste the difference.” Cas smirked as he unfolded the tee, Dean had howled with laughter when he had unwrapped it, convinced Castiel either wouldn’t get the joke or would be horrified by it. Neither was true. Cas had quite enjoyed being included in the joke, Dean had never given him a gift before, apart from the mix-tape, but that wasn’t a Christmas gift. That had been a declaration.

Grumbling and bouncing his ass along the mattress Dean pulled the covers up and over his bare legs and chest. It wasn’t warm in the house yet, it was too empty to hold the warmth in a homely way. He was regretting his decision to just wear shorts to bed, his nipples perked from the cold, which stung, but not in a good way. His mood was in serious decline. This was not how he had imagined today going. Allowing his head to fall back onto the pillow he watched as Cas stripped off his henley and jeans. He had got used to seeing him this way now. The trench coat was still a part of his ensemble but not a constant, Cas actually used it as an overcoat now, rather than a permanently attached costume. The suit was gone too. These days Cas favoured casual wear; jeans, tees, hoodies. He still had the suit but it was unwearable. Stained with blood and scorched with burn marks from that day. The tie had survived, miraculously, and Cas kept it tied and hung over the mirror in their room in the bunker. It was suspended there against the reflective glass as an unspoken reminder.

With his back turned to the mattress and his thumbs hooked into the top of his underwear Cas starts to slowly draw them down over his hips. Dean’s stomach tightens and his lungs call out for more air as thick black elastic effortlessly slides over the curve of taut skin until it catches on the smattering of light brown hair at the top of Castiel’s thighs. Dean’s gaze is drawn upwards, up the sinewy lines that map out the muscular curvature of Castiel’s figure, up his thick arms which are flexing with the movement of him leaning further down to pull off his underwear, up to his shoulder which shows every movement of the strength sitting underneath permanently sun-kissed skin. Somehow Dean’s mood is improving.

As he screws the black pants up in his hands to toss them into the bag at his feet Castiel becomes aware of the eyes drinking in his image behind him. Cas rolls his shoulders slightly and shakes out his sleep shorts. His top lip begins to curl into the smirk of a smile as he runs his hands down his arms and rubs them in soft sweeping motions as if warming them from the cold. He knows Dean is still watching. The breathing from the mattress behind him is deep and measured, with the occasional sound of skin shifting against the sheets. Dean is rarely quiet, right now Cas can hear Dean’s thoughts, they may as well be broadcast in the same volume as he had used when shrieking at Garth earlier in the day. Cas slowly bends down to slip his foot into his shorts.

“You’re not going to be needin’ those.”

Dean’s voice echoes slightly in the bare room, bouncing from the wall in front of Cas while reverberating down his spine where he knows Dean has his eyes fixed.

Expecting to see Dean laying on his back, head on pillow, right leg cocked out to an angle, Castiel turns his head to question the advice just given. Instead, Dean has moved to the end of the mattress and is at arm’s length from Castiel’s legs. Sitting with lazily crossed legs Dean is leaning back on his hands, his head tilted back, green eyes on blue. Cas flicks the shorts with his foot the short distance of the mattress where they land next to his pillow. Dean’s eyes follow their journey then look back to Castiel and he raises an eyebrow in question.

“Will need them after.”

Castiel is nothing if not practical. He will need them later. The house is still cold after all.

Dean makes an oh with his mouth as he slowly nods his head in agreement. Pushing away with his arms Dean sits up and leans forward towards Castiel who tilts his head in interest at Dean’s not so subtle advance. Dean curls his toes into the deep pile of the carpet as he shuffles his ass further towards the edge of the mattress looking to claim the space between them. Cas returns the favour and takes a stride forwards, looking down at Dean’s flax hair. He can’t help reaching down with his left hand to run his fingers through and over it, pulling Dean’s head sharply forwards breaking the eye contact they had been sharing in the dimly lit room. Castiel’s right hand slips into the crown of Deans hair and gently strokes through it, then with just his forefinger, Cas traces a line from crown down to the nape of Dean’s neck. He slowly releases the grip from the strands in his left hand and lets the back of his fingers fall over Dean’s ear. Making his way around to his cheek, brushing it lightly, his fingers amble to Dean’s chin which is already lifting in anticipation.

Tilting his eyes upwards to find his man’s face Dean runs his hand up Castiel’s legs. He lets the inside of his fingers brush over the hairs and tensely flexed skin of the calf muscles. As his fingertips reach the knees Dean’s fingers change course and the outside of them brush purposefully up along the solid inside of Castiel’s thighs.

A sharp hiss and sigh fall from Castiel’s lips as Dean’s fingers reach the hairs surrounding his balls. Already hard Cas feels his cock twitch in the anticipation of Dean’s touch. He looks down to figure out what’s coming next, he doesn’t mind, he’ll take whatever Dean has to offer. Cas moves his hands to the sides of Dean’s throat, his large hands reaching around the wide breadth of his boyfriend’s neck, his fingers almost meeting each other at the back, his thumbs circling under Dean’s jawline.

Dean moves his hands back down Castiel’s legs and raises an eyebrow upwards with a smirk. Castiel looks mildly annoyed. Good. That’s how Dean likes him. Quickly he pulls up his right hand and wraps his fingers around the base of Castiel’s cock. Slowly he begins to twist up and stroke the length; friction be damned, he won’t leave him dry long. He pulls up and over the head, tightening as he goes, feeling the air being expelled from Castiel’s lungs spilling down from above him. Dean picks up the pace and repeats the actions with little finesse but keeping a steady, tight rhythm. His other hand reaches around behind Castiel and finds its place on the crack of his ass.

Castiel’s grip moves back up into Dean’s hair, tightening as he endures with absolute pleasure the rough hand job being gifted to him.

Dean’s forehead falls just beneath Castiel’s perfectly oval navel and his nose traces the faint trail of hair leading downwards. Dean sniggers to himself as he realises that he notices these details about Cas, he knows him so well now, knows every slight freckle. Cas looks down quizzically at his grinning lover.

“Is something amusing?”

Dean smiles upwards and shakes his head before placing a wet, sucking kiss on Castiel’s hipbone. His tongue traces its way back over to above the short, curled hair on his pelvis. His fingers slow their work as the tip of Castiel’s cock bumps under his jaw, a slick of pre-come licks its way down the outside of Dean’s throat as the rubbing continues. Dean hinges his jaw as wide as he can in order to prepare for his next move. He pushes his head harder against Castiel, allowing his chin to fall closer to his chest freeing Cas from underneath. Sucking down on his tongue he lets his mouth fill with saliva and lets it cascade down the length of the tightly gripped cock. He helps it on his way with a sweep from the flat of his tongue. In one quick movement Dean takes Cas into his mouth.

Castiel’s breathing is ragged now. His head lolling back heavily, snapping forward on return without rhythm. His mouth watering as his swollen tongue pulses and swirls around, yearning for some action of its own. Not that he was prepared to interrupt the current rhythm of Dean’s lips slicking and sucking him off in favour of a kiss. No thank you. He bites down on his lip as Dean pulls off and immediately moves back in with a sweet kiss followed by his tongue running over Castiel’s slit. A groan slips from Castiel’s throat and punctures the air. His head falls back bearing his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and gasps, into the brusque chill of the air. Dean’s mouth too hungry to stay empty long closes itself back over his cock, this time allowing his jaw to fall completely open and swallow Cas entirely.

The hunter is relentless, hearing Cas beginning to fall apart and feeling him start to jack into his mouth Dean allows Cas the freedom to move, to fuck into his mouth. He takes the unspoken invitation thrusting forward into Dean with a building speed, hitting the back of his throat, pulling away quickly enough to avoid causing retching. Dean slaps his hands onto the front of Castiel’s thighs, freedom to fuck his face is one thing but he’s starting to lose his balance. If his mouth wasn’t stretched to capacity Dean would laugh at his own loss of coordination. Keeping his palms flat in their place against Castiel’s legs Dean pushes back onto his hands to steady him against the pounding.

“Fuck, yes, YES!” Cas grunts his words out in time with the beat of his dick hitting Dean’s throat. His heart pounds in time with his ragged breathing, thrumming a beat into his ears. His blood pressure rises as his body fires up ready for what, literally, comes next. The familiar tightening of his stomach muscles spreads to the base of his cock. Pressure creeps up his cock in pursuit of the final blast of power, seeking out the last sensitive tingle on the tip. A hot spurt of come is pushed deep over Dean’s tongue as Cas continues to slowly jack into his boyfriends open mouth. Waves of pressure and pleasure ride up his body and into his head which falls back, jaw hanging open. A single loud groan roars through the bedroom, bouncing and echoing around the almost empty room, accompanied by the sound of slick skin on skin slapping to a finish. The growl slows and quiets to a drawn out “Dean, oh yes.” Cas slows his movements and pulls back from Dean who is looking up at him, wiping his grinning lips with his thumb, looking pleased with himself as he visibly swallows.

“Happy moving in day!” Dean muses on a sigh. Cas is still standing above him, slightly bent over, heavily resting his hands on Dean’s shoulders, too burnt out to respond to his lover’s comedy timing. Rolling his shoulders back Cas drops down to his knees and presses his still open mouth against Dean’s, filling it with his tongue. Dean sucks and swirls his own around Castiel’s, breaking away only for Cas to pull him back in with a hungry nip to his bottom lip. Cas presses against the muscle fighting his own, he can taste himself within the wet slick of his lips. He ventures deeper into Dean’s mouth chasing the flavour that has been bonded together. Dean continues to pull back and make Cas hunt him with his lips. Breathing sharply through his nose, Cas hums against the bristle of five o’clock shadow. Cas mumbles momentarily then clears his speech up with a sigh to let out the one thought filling his mind.

“I love you.”

Dean’s hands shimmy up Castiel’s back and over his shoulders as he continues to tease Cas with his mouth.

“I know you do” he pants through connected lips, “but that’s not what I need to hear right now…”

Castiel is still not processing the nuance of Dean’s conversation and briefly pulls away, but only nose distance, where he lowers his eyebrows and squints at Dean in confusion, sounding out a whine of bewilderment.

Dean rolls his eyes dramatically and his lips pout before curling into a wanton grin. With more effort than needed he throws himself back onto the mattress, his head and shoulders slightly rebounding on the soft mattress below.

“What I need to know is what you are going to do to me now.” He delivers with a smirk, putting both hands behind his head.

A sudden look of realisation and relief falls over Castiel’s face, his expression morphing into one of deep thought.

“Your turn.” He mutters.

“My turn.” Dean retorts.

Cas looks down at his own cock, now completely spent. His mind now flutters through the possibilities he is left with to complete his task. Recognising the look on the former angel’s face Dean huffs a laugh and hauls his hands from behind his head. Pulling up from his core Dean leans up into Castiel’s space above him, grabs his hand and tugs it towards his cock. On a reflex Cas reacts and grips it tightly as Dean’s hands make their way back to their position behind his head.

“There, simplified it for ya.”

Cas isn’t sure whether to be grateful or irked by Dean’s guidance, but he’s eager to please. With one hand grasping Dean’s cock he makes his way up the bed and lowers himself to Dean’s neck and starts nipping at the skin with his teeth, pulling and pinching before offering a soft lick or press of his swollen lips against the reddened surface. Pumping with his closed fist Cas can feel Dean’s cock twitch against his touch, it’s warmth increasing as he starts to leak over the fingers working the girth under them. Cas runs the tip of his tongue down to a nipple where he circles it lightly around the bud, Dean hisses in response and his back arches off the mattress. Upping the ante his teeth start to drag over the same spot, then warm lips draw back up and a hard suck pulls Dean’s nipple into Castiel’s mouth and holds it there. The pulse of Castiel’s motion around Dean’s cock is steady and sure, not changing or slowing. The fist draws up with a tempo that matches Dean’s heartbeat, one finger brushing directly over the tip. With Cas working him top and bottom Dean’s body is pulsing, he loosely jacks against Castiel’s hand with some difficulty as the grip is too tight to allow much movement. His groin fills with heat and weight as he feels his tip sting with pleasure before erupting upwards hitting both men’s chests in several short shots. Dean’s throat is unable to contain the twisted whine and groan that spills out of his chest and perforates the silence. Cas isn’t saying anything. The long windows in the bedroom stretch the light from the streetlights, pouring it in, laying it across the floor, spilling over the mattress and up the walls surrounding them. Dean lies on his back with Cas propped next to him, one arm allowing his free hand to skim over Dean’s face and down his neck, dragging through the opaque droplets of come glinting in the scant light. Dean breathes deeply through his nose and cranes his neck upwards slightly to watch Castiel’s lips curve into a smile as he continues to skate his fingertips over the freckled torso next to him.

“First time.” Cas doesn’t look at Dean’s face as the words leave his lips, but his chin tilts towards him as he continues to watch Dean’s skin quiver at his touch.

“Did I miss something?” Dean chuckles as he props himself up slightly on his elbows.

“First time in our own home.” The words are spoken so softly. Only the silence of the room allows Dean to hear them. Castiel’s eyes are still fixed to no particular point of Dean’s body. Dean is filled with warmth, his hairs stand on his arms as he considers the statement. This really is their beginning. Maybe now is a good time to…

“We should get cleaned up.” Cas lifts his fingers from Dean’s skin and frowns slightly as he turns his azure blue eyes to face emerald green.

“Oh shit!” Dean flops his head and shoulders back against the mattress. “I forgot to pack towels.”


	5. Hard and Soft Furnishings

Cas reached down into the brown grocery bag and blindly shifted the items stashed inside. There was a bag of coffee in there somewhere. How Sam and Dean had managed to finish off the supply so quickly was beyond him. The week had been spent moving various boxes of possessions from the bunker along with a few scant pieces of furniture. The house still looked empty, Cas frowned at the boxes piled in the corner of the kitchen, some were marked “Dean’s stuff” which meant it didn’t belong in the kitchen. Eventually Cas pulled out the bag of coffee and made his way over to the machine, ripping the bag open on the way.

Clattering thuds bounced through the hallway and vibrated through the walls as Dean bounded down the staircase, shaking a catalogue in his hands while hollering to Cas through the hallway.

“I’ve measured everything and we’re not limited. Pretty much anything we want is gonna fit. The ceilings are so high in this place… Are we agreed about styles? I mean I know you like old stuff but livin’ in that bunker man… If I never see another art deco mural or bookcase again I’ll be happy you know.”

Cas flicks the switch on the coffee machine and hums in agreement. His taste and personal style as a human being is still evolving. There was nothing really that he hadn’t seen before. He had witnessed the creation of landscapes, creatures and botany. He had seen the beauty in nature and the creations of man. He had seen the true form of angels and the unbearable majesty of the human soul. Somehow an Ikea Pax closet did not excite him to the same degree as it did Dean.

“You making coffee now? I thought we were leaving?” Dean pouts with an eyebrow cocked as he pulls on his boots, trying not to topple in the process.

“You haven’t eaten yet, I just assumed you would want breakfast first.” Cas flicks the machine off and pulls out the pot, peering inside it, considering the small dribble of liquid inside for a brief moment before pouring it down the sink.

Dean slinked in behind Cas, resting his chin on his shoulder and wrapping his hands around his waist. Cas stretches his neck to the side slightly, knowingly creating space for more access. Dean’s nose brushes against his ear as his lips catch against the long stubble below his cheekbone.

“You need a shave” Dean closes his eyes and lets his lips move over the smoother portion of skin as he speaks. “Last time I saw this amount of facial hair was when Sammy became the Hunter Chief.” He can feel Cas smiling against his skin, can feel his cheeks broaden against his lips, his angel is happy, even though he’s teasing him more than he should.

Eventually the men prise themselves apart and collect their wallets and phones ready to head out. Dean scoots back upstairs to grab the keys to Baby as Cas slowly taps through the security settings on their checking account app. $9063.09 is displayed as the remaining balance. Cas frowns as he considers the amount.

“Do you think it’s time to sell off something else?” Dean questions as Cas flashes the screen at a him.

“No, we’ll be OK for a while, besides Sam has some hunters interested in some of the older weaponry and artefacts, they’ll be in town soon, should bring in a couple of thousand.” Dean was always hopelessly pessimistic about money, he was so used to scams and hustling it was second nature to him to be frugal over purchases. The boys had built up quite a collection of antiquities, weapons, books and occult items over the years, some were still useful, some sentimental so they rarely parted with them. When Rowena had given them the key to one of Crowley’s lock ups they had found more of the same, but they had also found stashes of jewellery and coins worth a small fortune. Not trusting Crowley (even dead and gone) they had been especially careful with selling and pawning these items, often taking less than the value they were worth to avoid attention. They had profited handsomely from the venture though, and there was plenty left in the vault, enough to see them comfortably into old age. Cas missed Rowena, so did Dean. They rarely mentioned her though in case of upsetting Sam. It wasn’t his fault of course. Certain events were out of their hands and Rowena had known the score. Her death had been at the hands of Sam but not _caused_ by him. She had made a sacrifice, it was her choice. Determined, brave Rowena. That didn’t make it any easier for the younger Winchester though.

Cas unhooks his coat from the peg on the wall and shakes it out slightly, looking for the arm as he prepares to put it on. Dean opens the front door wide and looks at expanse of blue above them, he pauses for a moment watching Cas mess with his coat.

“You don’t need the coat Cas.” Dean gestures at the almost cloudless sky and he looks back over his shoulder fixing his eyes gently onto the crumpled coat. “We should get moving babe.” There isn’t any room left for hesitation in their lives anymore, they had made a pact to only look forward from now on. The past was the past, their future was turning out better than they had hoped. It was becoming obvious to both of them that coming to terms with everything that had happened and letting go of past mistakes was propelling them into something perfect. Inhaling the scent of the greenery from their new garden drifting through the hallway, Castiel’s thumb briefly strokes the edge of the sleeve that had finally fallen into his hand. He gently hangs the camel coloured trench back on its peg before turning to Dean, who is still holding the door open for him with an outstretched hand.

Dean had insisted on parking Baby on the furthest side of the parking lot. His reason being that “Douchebags in minivans with too many kids and boxes” might risk his paintjob. This meant a trudge to the huge blue warehouse in front of them. Castiel’s stomach turned as Dean rattles off various Swedish names with terrible pronunciation from the marked up catalogue in his hands, Cas is not looking forward to this. Being around people is hard work, constantly reminding himself that humans make eye contact and small talk, and this is OK, he just has to not say or do anything weird. Easy. No. Not easy at all. He had spent eons as a celestial being and warrior, in hindsight this now seemed easier than dealing with a supermarket check-out clerk asking him how his day had been so far and backtracking out of the unwanted answer he had given about his bowel movements. Dean had called it “TMI”. There are so many rules to conversation. Enochian seemed easy in comparison.

Dean had never been into a store like this before either. He had never needed to. At least this was a first for both of them. Cas didn’t feel quite so bad knowing that Dean was struggling with the concept in his own way too. After walking around the showroom, sitting on various couches and following the illuminated arrows on the floor Dean had written down the names and locations of a couch, armchair, two closets, three bookcases, bedframe and a coffee table. Turning a corner the showroom opened out into a space with dozens of dining tables, some displaying table settings complete with linen napkins and crystal clear glasses others with ceramic cereal bowls and hand spun mugs glazed in muted colours. Dean suddenly became quiet, the enthusiasm and certainty he had been exuding throughout the trip disappearing from his body and voice. His eyes narrow and attentive begin scanning the showroom, ignoring the glitz of the set dressing around them and instead studying the shapes and sizes in front of them. Any contemporary styles with glass or metal are dismissed, Dean has zoned them out in favour of inspecting the completely wooden pieces. Round tables, designs with a drop leaf and ovals are all ignored, Dean follows the simple rectangular lines of the few remaining options with a frown.

“I think we can skip this section,” Dean turns and dutifully follows the pathway and direction of the other patrons. Cas puts down the turquoise glazed mug he has been considering and watches Dean weave his way around a small family and disappear into the family section.

With his eyes rolling into the back of his head on reflex Cas stands in the entrance to the family section, noise and colours spilling out and smacking his senses so hard his head starts to vibrate. Small children are diving between the displays, spinning each other in chairs and dragging oversized stuffed toys from set to set. Dean is standing mouth agape below a wall adorned with a multitude of wall lamps all shaped to look like clouds, balloons and stars. He turns his head and beckons Cas over with a twitch of his head and points at the clouds lit up in soft light as Cas cautiously manoeuvres past small children to reach him.

“I had something like this when I was a kid.” Dean’s eyes are glinting and slightly glassy, the corners of his mouth holding a soft smile. “It wasn’t exactly like this, I think mine was some sort of paper thing, don’t remember it exactly but it was like this.” Cas puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder then lets it fall down Dean’s arm in a soft stroke. When their fingers reach each other’s they entwine on a reflex and Dean squeezes them as he turns to face Cas. Soft lips are already in place and press themselves together gently as their hands untwist and make their way around their waists. Cas gently pulls his mouth away for a second and looks at the tear trickling down Dean’s cheek. Without a word Cas thumbs it away and brushes an open mouthed kiss against Dean’s parted lips. A high pitched giggle sounds from beneath them making their heads whip down in the direction of the disturbance. A small blonde child all freckles and mismatched teeth is standing staring up at them with a broad smile, rocking backwards and forwards on her heels.

“May we help you?” Cas questions with a curt inflection of “go away” implied.

“Kissing is gross!” The little girl exclaims before roaring with laughter and running back into the chaos of the display room.

Cas frowns and looks back at Dean who is grinning wildly at the interaction. Cas feels his heart lift in his chest as he sees the smile come back to Dean’s face. He looks back over at the little girl who is now wrestling a slightly taller boy to the ground. His lips betray his thoughts as they form into a smile that creeps into the light and corners of his eyes. Kids aren’t so bad after all.


	6. Only New Things

The trip to Ikea had been worthwhile. Dean had arranged delivery for the same day and he and Cas had beaten the delivery truck home by and hour or so which had given them chance to unload some of the smaller items they had purchased from the Impala.

It turned out Dean had measured everything correctly, so moving the new furniture into position had been stress free. The flat packed portion of their haul had not gone quite as smoothly. Misplaced bags of fixings and Dean refusing to follow the instruction booklet had led to delays and bickering followed by sulking and making up. The making up had revealed that the bedframe needed tightening as it creaked and groaned beneath them to a worrying degree. A naked, pissed off Cas ended up holding the corners into place as Dean made as many screw puns as possible while tightening the bolts. Once satisfied it was secure enough they got around to adorning the new cot with the sheets and duvet set they had chosen together. Cellophane and discarded “Wash before use” labels were thrown on the floor to deal with the following morning along with crumpled cardboard packaging. Curled on their soft mattress, elevated from the floor by smooth oak spindles and slats, Dean and Cas silently drifted to sleep.

The next day was spent finishing building the rest of the flat pack. Closets were in place quicker than expected and oversized blue bags were unpacked with cushions, houseplants and various throws and towels. Cas had found an illuminated white plastic squirrel during their jaunt through the children’s section and had managed to sneak it in among some wicker baskets. He had triumphantly placed it alone on the bookcase then had stood in their lounge and waited patiently for Dean to notice. His reaction had not been disappointing as Dean had simply grumbled and launched it at Castiel’s mocking laugh. Cas of course picked it up and put it back on the shelf in pride of place.

Dean, keen to explore their new town had already researched the new area to a nerd like degree. He couldn’t resist the urge to hack into traffic cams and police databases to check out the local situation. Cas had pointed out the best way to get to know a place was to observe and actually visit, but Dean felt the need to be prepared, his hunter instincts still strong. Several phone calls with Sam had proved that Dean now knew enough about the small town to become an official tour guide for the place, even though he had only briefly driven through it. That drive through weeks ago had been enough to sell the small town to both Cas and Dean.

Liberty is a pretty name for an old town. It perfectly suits the aura of the place. Some of the smaller original buildings from the nineteenth century still standing near the neat manicured town square, the rest of the town is a picturesque mix of 1920’s art deco and red brick. Planters spilling over with green foliage and remnants of winter flowering pansies line the sidewalks. Most of the shop fronts are adorned with geometric iron work and faded jade green canopies. The town is surprisingly busy, cars are parked in parallel spaces while people wander the paved paths with neat paper bags displaying the logos of the independent stores that line the streets.

Dean had scouted out a couple of local furniture shops online and had diligently planned a route into town that would allow them to explore. Dean’s eyes dart around and he hunches forwards over the steering wheel as he searches for a spot to settle Baby down. Cas is quiet, a small smile on his lips as he wistfully watches the pretty matching buildings slowly pass by. Eventually Dean finds a double space outside an ice-cream parlour, not an ideal location, ice-cream means children, which means danger to his paint job, he settles for it anyway. Locking Baby up tight Dean steps back and admires the sight of the slick, black and chrome car sitting in this street, she fits in here, against the blue sky, the foliage the quaint architecture. Dean looks over the roof as Cas still stands on the other side eyes wandering over the line of rooftops behind Dean. Cas fits in here. No one knows who he is, what he used to be. Right now he is dressed in jeans and slightly fitted navy blue cotton shirt unbuttoned over the top over a maroon t-shirt. His dark hair is tousled but styled so it lifts at the front, slivers of grey pepper the colouring nearest his temples and down his sideburns. In this light the grey ignites and sparks when Cas turns his head, almost like that first night they met. Sparks fly when Cas is near. Dean’s mind wanders back to that barn for a moment, and his brain tries to tie together the image of a fearless celestial being striding towards him with the vision of the man currently standing a few feet away. He smiles as the connection is made. It is still his Cas, he is just _more_ now. More emotion, more life, more his.

A couple walk past hand in hand, chatting loudly about being late for something. The shorter of the two men turns his head as Cas steps onto the sidewalk and his voice begins to trail off as the couple pass. The shorter man cranes his neck back and looks over his shoulder at Cas, starting at his feet then letting his eyes wander slowly upwards. The taller man stops walking and looks back at his partner’s trajectory, quickly turning back towards his boyfriend and throwing his hands in the air and saying something unintelligible while animatedly shaking his head. Dean’s eyes widen and he beams to himself at the situation unfolding. Of course that guy was checking Cas out, of course he was, look at him. Clueless, Cas walks over to Dean and is clearly mystified at the interest Dean is showing in the squabbling couple in front of them. He could ask of course, but his attention is taken away by some partially obscured signage hanging from a canopy further down the street.

“I think that’s an antique store.”

Cas squints past the still bickering couple and his hand naturally falls into Dean’s as he begins to move closer to it. Dean follows, still grinning at the douche who had the gall to check out his boyfriend in front of his own. The short guy eyes Cas again as they pass and his eyes fall to Cas and Dean’s hands interweaved together, his eyes dart back up, this time hitting Dean’s, who smirks with triumph at his would be rival.

Upon closer inspection it is clear that Cas was correct, it is an antiques store. Like the other buildings they have passed the front is small and narrow. The canopy is faded but clean, baskets filled with ivy sway slightly from their hooks either side of the door. Before Dean has a chance to protest Cas has stepped inside the old shop and his nose is filled with the heady scent of linseed oil and beeswax. A small blonde haired woman sits behind a small desk in the far corner of the narrow store, rocking a baby carriage with one hand and holding a lidded coffee cup in the other. Her eyes glance up momentarily and she offers a friendly gesture with the cup towards them mouthing soundlessly something like “Let me know if you need anything” before putting her finger to her lips then pointing at the baby. Cas offers her an overenthusiastic thumbs up in response which lingers as he spreads a gummy grin across his face. Dean digs him in the back to clue him in that he is missing the mark, Cas looks back over his shoulder to Dean and realising his faux pas his eyes, saucer like, follow his brows upwards and the perfect puppy dog expression speaks directly to Dean’s heart. Oh shit, why does he have to be so damn adorable?

Cas spends a few minutes wandering amongst the furniture piled high upon itself turning over handwritten tags to read them. Dean follows behind, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets and hunching his shoulders. His eyes glancing back to the window overlooking the street. There is a furniture store a few doors down that he had planned on visiting, the website had looked promising. Dean turns his head back towards where Cas had been standing, still expecting him to be hunched over the table he was checking out. Instead Dean spots a familiar pair of black boots poking out from underneath the table. Rolling his eyes Dean squats down and whispers while Cas continues to inspect the timber.

“What are you doing?”

Cas smacks his lips together and looks thoughtful as he murmurs something about “No woodworm”.

“OK Chippendale, get your ass out from under there, we ain’t buying this one.”

Cas looks pissed but pulls himself out from under the table and frowns in Dean’s direction. Not bothering to keep his voice lowered this time Cas offers a challenge.

“Why not?”

Dean sighs and looks over to the blonde who has tilted her head up in interest at the volume increase. Leaning in to Cas his voice cracks slightly as he tries to maintain a whisper.

“C’mon. How many cursed objects have we come across over the years? Hell forget cursed, how many have been haunted? Any one of these things could have some old coot tied to them who wants to mince us up as we sleep. We’ve had enough bad luck for a lifetime. I just don’t wanna tempt fate because something is pretty.”

Cas pulls his bottom lip up and his forehead wrinkles into arches as he considers the statement. Gradually his lips soften and a smile lifts at one corner of his mouth, his head nodding as he offers his reply.

“I tempted fate for something pretty.” OK so Cas is attempting humour again. Dean immediately throws him bitch face to hide the blush the compliment has raised. He had to admit that was a good one, with a bit more speed it could even be considered witty. Dean lolls his eyes to the side and mutters under his breath as they leave the store, offering a wave to the clerk who is looking on perplexed.

Back in the street Dean finds Castiel’s hand and they begin to weave through the smattering of shoppers walking in varying directions along their path. Dean expands on his theories on why they should avoid older furniture reminding Cas of various mirrors, cigar boxes and ballet shoes that have caught them out over the years. Cas nods in agreement with Dean’s flawed logic. He isn’t going to fight him on this, it is typical Dean. Looking to protect everyone, being cautious in ways others would never be able to comprehend, still fearful that something might disrupt their happiness. If Cas has to forgo a table to make Dean feel better then so be it.

The next couple of hours are spent browsing with the occasional purchase. Cas picks out an oversized black and chrome clock for the kitchen and fills a bag with dead flowers that he insists on calling pot pourri. They buy vases and candles, picking out different colours for different rooms. A local gallery has some canvas prints on sale with Pollock-esque explosions of colour on them; Dean jokes that they should just create their own and invest in a black light. His humour is met with a sour smile from the curator who overhears his smutty suggestion. This time Cas delights in lecturing Dean in the practice of socially acceptable conversations in public.

With several stiff paper bags in hand the pair enter the third and final furniture shop on Dean’s list. They have placed a few orders here and there on ottomans, sideboards and a hat stand. The only item left to buy is a dining table. Dean is being particularly choosy about this item, not giving away what he is looking for although it is obvious that he has something specific in mind. Feeling fatigued and somewhat hungry Cas struggles to find a diplomatic way of tackling the indecision.

“What _exactly_ are you looking for Dean? You don’t seem to like anything.”

Dean purses his lips and breathes deeply through his nose as he half-considers a plain looking oak rectangular table with simple shaker style chairs, solid but boring, not what Cas expects of Dean.

“I know I’m being a pain.” Dean skims his fingers lightly over the wooden surface. “Some of my best memories of Mom, when I was a kid I mean, they were sitting in the kitchen at this huge table…” Dean’s eyes disappear somewhere far away momentarily. He shakes his head slightly and continues “Well I say huge, it wasn’t, it probably just felt huge because I was a kid. Anyway, I remember sitting there colouring or playing with these little green army men while I waited for Mom to fix me something. It was cool, just me and her.” He ducks down slightly and looks up and down the table leg scrutinising the seams and joints. “A table is an important part of a home, I think. I mean I suppose I don’t really know all that much about making a home but a table seems like a good place to start.”

Cas puts down the bags in his hands and puts his arms around Dean’s middle. It makes sense to him now. Cas knows nothing about making a home. He has only ever slept rough or lived in the bunker, heaven certainly couldn’t be classed as a home. He sometimes took it for granted that he should let Dean take the lead with human experiences, he didn’t consider that this was all fairly new to him too. Civilian life was quiet and safe but it was also unfamiliar to both of them, despite how badly they wanted it. He tightens his grip and pulls the hug in closer, and with only the vaguest remnant of his usual gruff tone offered his understanding.

“You want to find a table like your Mom’s.”

Dean nods and claps his hands over Castiel’s. He leans back against Cas and tips his head back closing his eyes and sways his hips from side to side. The shop is empty, the owner had disappeared through a door in the back a few minutes before. The pair are free to hold each other and dance without music to the rhythm of their breaths as they contemplate the moment.

“This is the closest we’re gonna get.” Dean states with certitude.

“Do you mean us or the table?” Castiel teases from behind.

The store clerk returned and Dean placed the order while Cas scoped out the menu at the café across the street. They were both impressed with the coffee. Dean decided against a bacon cheeseburger and went with a steak sandwich which triggered a flurry of questions from Cas who had suddenly become concerned that Dean may be unwell. Sam called as they were eating and updated them on the latest recruits in his training programme. After a few minutes bitching and whining Dean finally relented and offered Sam the invitation he was clearly angling for. The remainder of their day was now set; head home, put away new stuff, store invoices for deliveries and kick back and wait for Sam. The mundane had somehow become blissful. Any worries they had about life becoming boring were quashed. Being together in this domestic venture was their version of heaven.

Cas loads their bags into the back of Baby and Dean slams the trunk shut. As he moves to the driver’s side he spies a shop they had missed earlier, probably because of the argument Cas had caused between those guys. The window is filled with kitsch decorative items, not exactly Dean’s thing, definitely not Castiel’s thing, but something has caught his eye and with a loud “Hell yeah!” Dean is now striding towards it.

Cas waits for a moment for a car to pass and then follows Dean into the small shop. A young skinny guy with a huge beard and multiple piercings hands Dean a large frame which makes Dean whoop and hoot at an embarrassingly loud volume.

“ZEPPELIN ’73!”

Dean rattles off the information from the frame in his hands. Cas looks at the black and white image of a Zeppelin airship with a red lined border following the edge of the slightly dogged paper under the glass. The bottom of the poster displaying four images of long haired men and the words “Led Zeppelin” in red and white font emblazoned across the middle. Dean reads aloud the black typeface underneath that boasts the time and date of the Dallas concert of the past.

“Is this original?” Dean almost pants at the clerk who immediately flips the frame over in Dean’s hand and excitedly points out the label of authenticity on the back.

“We’ll take it!” Dean declares, gripping the frame so tightly the clerk has trouble prising it back off him to ring it up.

With a smile on his face that is radiating movement through his body Dean turns triumphantly to Cas who is standing with his arms crossed across his chest and eyes narrowed into his best badass look.

“You sure it’s not cursed?” Cas remains stony faced as he delivers the sarcasm to his giddy boyfriend. Dean realises his fuck up and calculates his chances of getting out of this unscathed. The clerk continues to wrap the frame in bubble wrap and watches Dean uncomfortably smile at Cas in the hope of forgiveness. Sensing they are being watched Dean leans towards the clerk and under his breath whispers words that will either save him, _if_ Cas finds it funny, or condemn him further;

“He’s more of a Billy Joel kinda guy.”

Cas had understood the joke. As way of punishment he had played Billy Joel loudly on his phone the entire journey home, revelling in the way it had visibly made Dean’s skin crawl. Cas also discovered that Dean’s statement hadn’t been untrue, he did kind of like Billy Joel.


	7. The Lady Next Door

In the house they each found a hammer, picture hanging kit and proceeded to take it in turns to place their clock and pictures on the walls. Dean sheepishly held the Zeppelin poster in his hands and wistfully looked at the kitchen wall opposite where Cas had hung the clock before trudging into the hallway and up the stairs to hang it in their bedroom. Cas was drawing the line at hanging it in the kitchen. If John Bonham’s ghost was going to come back to kill them he would rather he didn’t have access to knives first. Dean had thought about arguing this logic but had realised Cas had boxed him in on this one.

After unpacking and placing everything they could Cas sat on their new sofa sorting through the morning’s mail which was mostly junk and take away menus. Dean had stopped on the way home, somewhere between “Piano Man” and “Uptown Girl” to pick up some beers so they were well stocked for the evening. With three different pizza and two Chinese food menus to choose from their evening was looking good. Dean was setting up the apps on their TV, logging into Netflix (using Sam’s account of course) when the sound of a car door closing snaps through the open window.

Cas jumps up from the sofa, surprised at his own enthusiasm, after all they had done pizza, beer and movie night a hundred times, this wasn’t a new thing. Still Cas races to the front door opening it out onto, nothing. Sam isn’t there. Sam’s car is in the driveway but Sam is nowhere to be seen. In socked feet Cas steps out onto the pathway and wraps his arms around the top of his arms as the chill of the late January evening bites into his skin, making it pinch and burn. Frowning at the sensation Cas ventures further out onto the path and squints into the dusky light calling “Sam?” as he moves. The biting air ebbs through the front door and hits the end of Dean’s nose as he hears Cas call for Sam. Recognising the concern in his voice Dean grabs the new copper plated poker from next to the fire and follows the floorboards leading to the doorway.

Cas is standing on the pathway looking over towards the driveway next door. His teeth are clenched together in an awkward grin as he offers a small wave to someone unseen. Dean relaxes as he recognises the threat level is at embarrassing rather than endangerment and walks toward Cas hiding the poker behind his back as he approaches. Following Castiel’s gaze Dean’s interest is immediately peaked as he spots Sam being dragged by hand by their plump, rosy cheeked neighbour who is covered in flour and teetering on fluffy heeled slippers toward her front door.

“Boys!” Missy hollers in their general direction, “I’m expecting you over too. I’ve been trying to catch you these last couple of days but you’re always out and about.” Missy continues her trek with a panicked looking Sam flaring his nostrils at Dean, looking for his big brother to offer a way out.

“Ummm. We don’t have any shoes on Ms. Clement.” Cas offers, somewhat uselessly. Missy stops and places a hand on her hip defiantly.

“Well if you want this big hunk ‘O handsome honeypie back you had better go put something on your feet! And don’t call me Ms. Clement sugar, its Missy!” Missy challenged with a smile as big as the moon.

Dean was huffing laughter and not hiding it well as his shoulders shook up and down. This was too good to be true. Sam had been taken prisoner by the cougar next door and was too polite to fight his way out.

“What you been cooking Missy? You’re looking a little dusted up there.” Dean shouted over, ignoring Sam’s pleading eyes.

“Pie!” came the singular reply from the bright cerise covered lips of their insatiable neighbour.

“Well that’s all I needed to hear! Give us five minutes!” Dean yelled delightedly back at the old lady as his brother’s face began to contort into that of a horror movie victim.

Cas stuttered as he tried to offer a suggestion that it was late and they really shouldn’t bother Missy at this hour but Dean and Missy had both headed back through their respective front doors with determination. Cas hurriedly walked back inside and found Dean sitting at the bottom of the stairs pulling his boots on while roaring with laughter.

“What are you doing? Sam doesn’t look comfortable at ALL with this Dean.” Cas barked at the bubbleheaded idiot giggling at himself.

“I know! That’s what makes it so funny! C’Mon, we don’t want to miss this!” Dean hooted as he stumbled through the door, “And the real bonus is we get PIE!”

Cas had taken longer to grab his shoes and lock up the house than he had intended. By the time he gets to Missy’s door raucous laughter can be heard inside, he taps idly on the door and after a beat realises that no one will hear him above the racket coming from inside. Cas follows the pretty tiled floor into the room where the noise is coming from. Missy’s walls are papered with wallpaper adorned with delicate birds and roses. Her furniture is all dark wood with glass panelling and scrollwork. Cas glances over at a chintz cream coloured sofa which is covered with a thick transparent plastic cover. Dean is sitting in a matching armchair and Sam is sitting awkwardly at the end of the sofa with Missy sitting closely beside him offering him a spoonful of pie which he is resisting.

“C’mon Sammy open up, this pie is incredible! Missy you are a genius!” Dean somehow manages to bumble out of his pie filled mouth. Sam’s head is inching back in alarm, but with resignation to his fate Sam opens his mouth and lets Missy force a spoon piled with pastry and fruit into his mouth. Sam ummmms with agreement that the pie does indeed taste good. The next hour is filled with Dean eating inhuman amounts of pie, Missy has made an apple, a cherry and a pumpkin pie and Dean has eaten most of them. Sam doesn’t escape her clutches as she practically force feeds him and continually finds excuses to touch him. Missy appears to constantly have a napkin attached to her hand to wipe Sam’s mouth with, even when there are no crumbs and she pushes his hair back behind his ear after every touch. Sam flinches with every movement she makes and Dean tries not to choke each time she does it. Cas continually tries to make excuses for them to leave but Missy either bats him down or simply ignores him, clearly delighting in the captive audience.

Cas shifts uncomfortably as he watches the old lady bat her long, mascara laden lashes at Sam. He may be relatively new to the nuance of human interaction but he is fairly confident he can recognise flirting. His eyes avert themselves and begin to wander over the faded photographs in various frames littered around the walls and shelves. There are pictures of a younger and voluptuous Missy posing for the camera. Castiel’s eyes are drawn to a collection of photographs displayed in a large multi frame on the wall opposite. Young Missy is dressed as a Playboy bunny complete with corset and ears and is perched on the lap of a handsome, middle aged man, with an equally handsome slightly younger man standing behind with his arms draped over her and the mystery man. Every other picture in the frame contains the same younger man with arms and hands all over the young Missy’s curves. Her lips pout for the camera in all but one picture, where they are locked against his lips. She looks so happy in those pictures; youthful and carefree. Here she is now an elderly lady, nearing the end of her life; where is the man from that picture now? Why is Missy alone? Cas sinks slightly in his chair as he contemplates that thought. Humans age and they die, it’s true, but this woman looks like she has lived. He hopes that one day someone can say the same about him and Dean. 

Feeling eyes upon him Cas breaks his gaze away from the pictures and catches Missy’s eye. She looks over her shoulder at the direction of the photographs and her eyebrow raises before settling and allowing her eyes to soften at the sight of her old self. Cas feels his heart begin to beat quickly; has he upset her? Has he reminded her of something painful? Not knowing what to do he looks over first to Dean who is orgasming his way through another mouthful of pie; realising Dean is no use Cas snaps his head in Sam’s direction who is scowling at Dean, trying to get his attention with jerky head movements. Missy turns back to Cas and a gentle smile forms in his direction. Cas thinks he can see water well in her eyes as she straightens in her seat and turns her attention back to stroking Sam’s leg and praising Dean’s appetite. He looks back at the pictures on the wall and his thoughts turn to heaven. That is what Missy’s heaven will look like; he wonders what his and Dean’s will be like.

Eventually all three are allowed to leave. Sam practically races out of the front door not looking back, Cas is exhausted from making small talk, but isn’t prepared to leave Dean behind quite as quickly as his loving brother. Dean on the other hand is thanking Missy, his arms piled high with pie filled Tupperware and he’s throwing gentlemanly promises her way to help her fix some shelves and hang fairy lights in her garden. After the mattress incident on moving day with Garth, Cas had been concerned that Missy may have taken a dislike to Dean but here she is fawning over him, kissing him on the cheek and singing his praises. The charming little shit.

Dean hurried through their hallway and into the kitchen, carefully placing the boxes onto the counter and immediately busying himself into organising space for them to sit. Contemplating whether or not he should put them in the fridge, his periphery caught a small movement by the blinds at the back of the kitchen. Sam was standing next to the window, back pressed against the wall, stealth like movements, only slightly moving the blinds as his eyes darted around the backyard.

Instincts kicking in, Dean hurries over to the other side of the window and mirrors Sam’s position, his eyes alert and full of concern. His hands automatically reach to his belt for his gun, which of course, was not there. Dean curses himself and his eyes flash over to the new knife block a few yards away on the kitchen top. Sam catches his eye and his face flushes red, his hair falls over his face and nervously, he tucks it back behind his ears as he carefully backs away from the window, slightly ducking and dodging the view of the frame. Sam grabs the beaded pull-cord at the end of the blind and tugs it, snapping the slats of the blind shut. Clearing his throat Sam walks away from the window and flicks on the light switch before making his way to the fridge where he grabs a beer. Bemused, Dean roughly pulls the blind aside and looks out of the window in time to see the light in Missy’s back yard flicker off.

“She was watching me man.” Sam whispers across the kitchen to the back of Dean’s head.

“Who?” Dean hoots back at Sam. His heartrate is still accelerated and he can’t match Sam’s muffled volume, nor does he want to.

“Missy! She was standing on her porch looking over and waving.” Sam hisses as he tries to duck the window.

“Well yeah! ‘Cause shes a friendly old lady! She _likes_ you Sammy! Be polite to my neighbour, don’t go embarrassing me!” Dean is now bobbing his head around in the window as he talks in the hope that Missy can see him and he can catch her attention again. He has discovered a new technique to torture his brother and is delighted by it.

“Stop it! She’ll see you and think she can come over then we’ll never get rid of her.” Sam is crouched on the floor behind some stacked boxes, half whispering, half shouting his responses to Dean who is still holding the blinds wide open.

“Look at you. You’re hiding from a sweet, little old lady.” Dean guffaws with absolute delight at the sight of his giant brother trying, and failing to hide himself. Giving up on his endeavour Sam straightens himself. Opening his beer bottle, he rolls his shoulders slightly and narrows his eyes at Dean.

“Well I’ll give her credit for recognising that of the two of us, I’m the catch.” Sam triumphantly swigs his beer after his teasing retort and eyeballs Dean with a challenge.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”


	8. D.I.Y.

A week has passed since Missy’s attempted kidnapping of Sam. Dean was still finding the whole episode hilarious and had been true to his word in helping their neighbour with chores. Castiel had kept out of the way and made excuses whenever Missy cooed at Dean over the fence. Dean went running to her each time; happy to take his payment in the form of baked goods. Dean had pleaded her case to Cas, insisting that she was a lonely old lady and the flirting was harmless. Cas was pretty sure Dean was enjoying it, although he did seem to have placed some pretty strong boundaries with her when it came to ass pinching and bicep squeezing. A couple of times Cas had watched Dean sit with Missy in the garden, sipping lemonade and gently laughing along as she told him stories. Despite Castiel’s worries about her intentions towards his family he had to admit she was bringing out the best in Dean, allowing him to show how warm and caring he could be. This was an easy project for Dean; keeping an old lady company. It was safer than the caretaking he was used to. This relationship didn’t involve beheading vampires or locating hex bags to ensure safety. Dean looked happy, and when Dean is happy Castiel’s world is a better place.

Dean was in the backyard leaning on the fence as Missy passed him various tools and pieces of decorating equipment from a dusty old box. Cas could hear his voice drift through the open door and into the front hallway; the rich tone reverberating off the stripped walls. Cas was on his knees, old newspaper strewn over the floor and tape lining the edges of the wall. Cas was painting the baseboards a light, bright white-grey shade called “Starlight” according to the can. He mused to himself about how inaccurate the manufacturer’s description had been. It didn’t matter; they had picked this colour out together, and liked it. His knees began to twinge and his calf muscles twitched. Cas had been painting for two hours straight and had barely moved from this position. He wiped the edges of his paintbrush and set it down before attempting to stand upright with a groan.

“Hey! Hey! You OK?” Dean was walking back through the kitchen headed in Castiel’s direction to the hallway. Cas placed his palms flat against the wall in front of him and continued to stretch out and straighten his back, his legs staggering stiffly beneath him. Dean drops the ragged old box in his hands onto the kitchen top before stepping into the hallway. His face is full of concern and he reaches out, placing his hands under Castiel’s arms to steady him, fearful he is about to drop to the floor. Between wincing groans Cas huffs out a chuckle and throws his head back, turning his cheek towards Dean.

“It’s just cramp Dean.” Cas pushes away from the wall and stomps his feet onto the paper ridden floor, attempting to adjust his circulation. Pins and needles gather in his feet and creep up the backs of his legs in response to his movements and Cas howls in discomfort at the sensation. Dean moves his hands to Castiel’s hips and snickers with amusement at the noises and jerky movements Cas is letting go.

“I don’t… Owww! I don’t know why you find this so funny! It hurts like a bi- - Owww!” Cas drops to a squat and throws his hands against the wall again to steady himself.

“It’ll be OK in a minute ya big baby!” Dean chortles, taking far too much delight in Castiel’s reaction to muscle spasms. His laughter softens and subsides as he looks down and notices how Castiel’s jeans are gaping slightly just above his ass crack. Dean’s tongue slips over his lower lip as he contemplates the slight flash of spine being exposed where Castiel’s t-shirt is riding up. Dean drops to his knees with a dull thud, ignoring the shock of pain that stabs up his weak leg and his hands slide quickly up Castiel’s back, pulling his shirt up as they caress their way upward. Dean’s head drops down, letting his lips falls between Castiel’s shoulder blades. His hands reach around the front and grasp at Castiel’s chest, his fingers circling and brushing over Cas’ pecs and nipples frantically. Dean kisses his way down Cas’ spine. Open mouthed he lets his tongue dart out and stroke the vertical line leading it’s way to the gap in the jeans. Dean wants to get to what sits below those jeans as quickly as possible. His hands are about to fall down to Cas’ fly but he realises Cas has beaten him to it.

Breathing raggedly Cas has pushed himself away from the wall and is now leaning back into Dean. Remaining in a squatted position on his knees Cas wobbles slightly as he pushes his hips forwards as his hands pull the button and fly open with haste. The cramp in his legs has almost gone. Still slightly numb he rocks his ass back and flops onto Dean’s lap. Both men exhale deeply at the shift of weight between them. Cas grabs at his jeans and with jerky, inelegant movements quickly pulls them down along with his underwear.

Dean sniggers lowly at his partner’s eagerness and buries his nose into Castiel’s neck, biting and nipping at his skin as his hands make their way down Cas’ front, his fingers teasing their movements over each groove of tanned skin. Dean’s mouth makes its way back up Cas’ neck towards his ear where his tongue gets to work flicking Castiel’s earlobe as his lips gently suck and close around it. Cas groans, deeply and hungrily making Dean increase the intensity and pull his hands to Cas’ sides, before shoving him sharply forwards.

Cas falls forward from Dean’s lap and lands on his knees, his hands ahead of him thud heavily against the floor holding the weight of his frame. Dean is already at work over Cas’ back. Pressed up over and behind, Dean leans on Cas and steadies himself on one arm against the floor. His right hand grasps at Cas’ shoulder as he continues to kiss and lick his way around Cas earlobe and neck. Rutting himself against Cas’ ass he grinds through his jeans at the smooth, naked ass beneath him.

The touch of Dean’s fly, the fabric of the denim is rough against Cas’ nude backside. He can feel the sharp pointed zip catch against him. He isn’t sure if it is breaking his skin as it scratches, he doesn’t really care; Dean’s tongue and lips are now working their way down his spine again. The sensation tightens and releases down his back and trickles down his spine, hitting his abdomen where it pulses straight through to his cock, making it stand hard and heavy underneath him. With the weight of Dean on top of him Cas can’t move his hands to grab at his cock like he wants to, not without making them both collapse to the floor.

“Dean. Touch me. Please.” Cas manages to breathe out, his voice gravelly, desperate and quiet.

Dean increases the depth of his kisses and drags himself off Cas’s back as he works his way further down his back. Cas groans as Dean moves away from him, missing the hand he was hoping would come around and grab him. Dean ignores the complaint and continues to circle his tongue over Cas’ spine until he reaches the crack of his ass. Dean leans back, sitting on his knees he places his hands on Cas’ cheeks and grabs at them pulling them apart before swiftly moving his slick tongue down into the crack he has been craving.

Cas moans loudly and his elbows give way letting his forearms fall to the floor. His back arches, pushing his ass further up into Dean’s face. Dean licks down and his tongue searches for its goal, while his lips suck up the dribbles of saliva escaping Dean’s mouth. Cas inhales sharply as he feels the tip of Dean’s tongue slip over his hole, working its way up to pushing itself in while his lips suck and devour the surrounding space. Dean pushes his jaw deeper into Cas, still holding his cheeks apart. Cas shifts and frees his right arm as his cock begs for attention, leaking all over the newspaper below.

Cas grabs the himself and begins to pump quickly, his pulse is beating a rhythm all over his body, seemingly sending all sensation straight to the tip of his cock. Dean’s tongue pushes its way fully into the hole, stretching it open. Slick and determined Dean thrusts it in deeper, rolling and flickering with difficulty against the slick muscles. Cas’ ass pulls against him whenever his tongue tries to temporarily retract. His lips are stretched and taut as his jaw hangs as widely as it can while he eats his way inside. Rocking his hips so his ass crushes against Dean’s mouth Cas breathes in as the pressure at the base of his cock pounds into his balls. A sharp tingle signals the end as warm liquid spurts over his hand and onto the floor. Cas moans his way through his orgasm as Dean slows his pace before pulling away. With a chuckle Dean gives Cas’ ass a slap as he sits back onto the floor and rubs his hand over the bulge in his own crotch.

Still breathing heavily Cas drops his head against the floor, remaining on his knees with his ass in the air. He brings his arm around and flops it on the ground next to him, completely misjudging the distance between his hand and the unlidded paint can still sitting next to them. In a split second the paint brush that had been balanced on the top is flipping through the air and the paint can is tipped on its side, glossy liquid escaping across the floor with speed. The paint brush lands on Cas’ head and bounces its way to the back of his shirt still lifted above his shoulders. Cas barely notices the sensation as his attention is stolen away by the panicked sound Dean is making behind him and the scuffling sound of newspapers. Cas flips onto his side and sees the mess created. His discarded jeans are now pooled in paint that continues to spill from the can and leak its way underneath the newspaper which is ruffled and stuck together from the sex wrestle moments before.

Dean grabs at the paint can and turns it over. Grabbing Cas’ jeans Dean begins to use them to stem the flow of paint, scrunching them up with handfuls of newspaper. Cas quickly springs up and gets to his feet, he hops across the floor way avoiding the pools of paint in his socked feet and runs into the kitchen. He quickly returns with a roll of kitchen paper and drops down to help Dean clear the mess.

Dean pauses his work for a second and looks at Cas. His eyebrow moves up and his lips quiver into a wry smile. Cas stops what he is doing and looks over at Dean, his face filled with guilt over the devastation of the hallway. Dean eyes Cas carefully, his gaze drops from Cas’ face and down to his middle. Cas looks down at himself and realises that he is bottom naked, in his shirt and socks, and his thighs are covered in a mixture of paint and come. Dean, still smiling shakes his head and grabs some paper towel to continue the mop up. His eyes wander over to the freshly painted baseboard and then back to Cas.

“Nice paint job.”

Luckily the spilled paint hadn’t been too difficult to manage. The newspaper and Cas’ jeans had taken the brunt of the damage. The paint that had made it onto the floor was scrubbed off with brush cleaner. Dean had sorted out the problem by himself as he had sent an embarrassed looking Cas to the bathroom to clean up himself. His boner had long since disappeared as his new homeowner instincts had activated. It was OK, he knew Cas would feel bad about it though, he always did, he didn’t like to disappoint Dean.

Dean looked around the hallway at Cas’ handiwork. He had actually made a beautiful job of the baseboards. They were almost finished. There was nowhere near enough paint left in the can to finish the job though. The plan to let the paint dry overnight and begin wallpapering tomorrow was a bust. The hardware store was closed now , Dean picked up the can and swirled it in his hands as he tried to calculate how much of the job they could finish.

The sound of a strong vibrating buzz on the kitchen counter pulled Dean’s attention and he picked up his phone, considering the local area code displayed with a puzzled expression. Cas walked softly down the stairs, dressed loosely in his bedtime gear, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and studied the hallway. It looked surprisingly good. There was no damage to be seen. About three quarters of the woodwork was shining with fresh paint, the air was a mix of slightly acrid brush cleaner and paint, not exactly pleasant in a traditional sense, but it screamed “New”. Cas wandered into the living room and pulled the curtains shut, it was dusk and the street was quiet. Motorhead was still playing loudly through the speakers as Dean had put it on to work to. Cas turned the dial on the system and turned it down rather than off. The sound of Dean’s voice in the kitchen making Cas’ ears prick to attention.

Dean sounded annoyed. He wasn’t shouting or swearing. His voice was deep, and authoritarian. He was annunciating sounds correctly, not dropping consonants as he tended to do when he was relaxed. Cas followed his voice into the kitchen and heard Dean indicate the end of the short conversation with a curt “Goodbye.”

“Is something wrong?” Cas’ gut was twisting. Dean was standing with his back to him and his shoulders looked tense. Dean turned around and his face matched his tone, he was pissed about something.

“That was the shop we ordered the table from.” Dean moved over to a cupboard and pulled out a small basket filled with paperwork. His fingers began to sort through the notes in it quickly.

“They’ve cancelled the order. Some sort of problem with the supplier. Said they will refund the deposit immediately. I’ll have to go and collect it.” Dean finds the note he is looking for and considers it for a moment before folding it and placing it in his shirt pocket.

“Aren’t they closed?” Cas gestures towards the large clock as Dean grabs his keys from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah but the guy is still in the office there so I may as well go sort it out now. I’ll pick us some dinner up on the way back.” Dean sighs heavily as he pulls on his jacket. Cas doesn’t know what to say, Dean looks dejected, and clearly is not in the mood to talk about alternatives. As he moves to leave Cas grabs Deans arm and pulls him in close. He wraps his arms around him tightly and nuzzles into Dean’s neck. He can feel Dean smile. Just a small lift in his head, a slight relax against his cheekbones. Dean returns the hug, squeezing and burying his head against Cas. Pulling away slightly Cas moves his head and noses along Dean’s cheek until their lips touch. Resting foreheads against each other they stand for a moment, wrapped up nose to nose, breath gently spilling into each other’s lips. Dean breaks first and lets his lips find Cas’. The kiss is slow and warm, tongues skim gently over each other, letting their lips do the work in mellow, feathery movements. Their arms loosen and before the kiss breaks Cas is holding Dean’s face in his hands. Looking him directly in the eye Cas nudges Dean’s nose with his own before ordering;

“No burgers.”


	9. Family Favours

Cas waved goodbye to Dean from the front door and watched him back out of the driveway and drive away. When he was certain Dean was gone he closed the door and hurried into the living room. Cas headed to the stereo and turned it off. He dropped to his knees on their new plush rug and intertwined his fingers bringing them up under his chin. With his eyes closed he exhaled a breath;

“Hello Jack.”

Cas didn’t need to pray for long, the familiar whoosh of wings sounded in front of him and before he had chance to open his eyes a bright and cheery greeting filled the room.

“Castiel!”

Cas’ heart filled with pure joy as he looked up at the sight in front of him. Jack looked ethereal, he glowed gently in the dim light of the living room, his wings folding themselves and gradually disappearing from earthly view. As Cas stood he grinned at the sight of Kelly stepping out from behind Jack and launching herself across the room and into Cas’ arms. The pair stood there roughly hugging and beaming as bright as the sun like only old friends do.

“We’ve missed you!” Kelly cried out, holding Cas’ face with tears in her eyes.

“I’ve missed you too.” Cas returned with a smile, moving an arm away from Kelly and beckoning Jack to come over and join the hug. Jack flung himself into the invitation and Kelly laughed heartily at the over exuberance that nearly knocked the three of them to the floor.

“Where’s Dean?” Jack questioned turning his head around expectantly.

“You’re telling me you of all people don’t know the whereabouts of Dean Winchester?” Cas chuckled. Kelly playfully slaps Cas on the chest and squeezes Jack’s shoulder.

“He likes to give you your privacy. Do you really want Jack watching every moment of your life Cas?” Kelly teases, her head tilted to the side and eyebrow raised. Cas considered the activities in the hallway for a moment and frowned to himself briefly before Jack interrupted;

“She’s talking about your sex life.” Jack reported, matter of factly.

Cas blushes and rolls his eyes while Kelly crumbles into laughter. He really had missed his boy.

The greatest thing to come out of the apocalypse was difficult for Cas to quantify. He and Dean had spent years skirting around the facts. He wasn’t sure how else they would have ended as a couple. It literally had taken the world ending for the two of them to finally get their act together. Jack had been lost to Cas and that had broken him. With his soul burning away and then Chuck smiting him Cas had felt like the ultimate failure. He had wanted the Empty to take him and send him to sleep eternally. He didn’t have Dean, he had failed Jack. An immortal life was not worth living. When all the pieces fell together. When at the end friends and foes had overcome their differences and worked together, Jack had become the obvious choice to be the new leader of both heaven and hell. He had earned it. Cosmic entities, demons, angels even Death had recognised Jack’s strength, but only because Cas and the Winchesters had sold it to them. Put Jack in charge, let him fix things, let old vendettas and deals die and each being could go back to the lives they wanted. They all went along with it voluntarily, although the general undertone was that Jack couldn’t be defeated. Once his power was fully unlocked he was unstoppable, he could control them all if he wanted to, but he chose to give them something Chuck never had; free will. They were all truly grateful.

Jack sealed the gates of hell so only one way trips were allowed. His soul had been replenished and improved as he was now filled with heavenly grace which glowed and glittered in his eyes as it mingled with his humanity. Cas had been reluctant to leave Jack to running heaven alone and had encouraged him to find help. He had of course offered himself but Jack wouldn’t hear of it, he had now seen how happy his Dad was now he finally had expressed his love for Dean. Kelly had been the best choice, and really the only one Cas could ever approve of for looking out for Jack. Besides which this woman had once worked in the biggest administration in the free world. If she could work the White House, she could work Heaven. Those early days had been difficult. Jack wanted everyone to have free will but he also wanted a world with no pain or suffering. Kelly had warned him that he couldn’t have both too quickly, he needed to have faith in humanity and let them figure some things out for themselves otherwise the world would become overwhelmed and possibly damaged. Jack was also unsure about the boundaries for helping his family. Some had died in the fight. He spoke to each of them in heaven and asked them what they wanted, all of them chose to stay there with him and devoted themselves to his service. Dean was hurt and Cas was human; Jack could fix both of these things. Both men had refused, Dean understood pain and somehow needed a reminder of how bad things had got to help him appreciate the here and now. Cas accepted his humanity if it meant he could grow old with Dean. He had paid that price for a reason and didn’t need Jack to fix anything. Well, until today.

Jack and Kelly sat side by side on the sofa as Cas recounted the story of the house move, meeting Missy, shopping and the decorating (leaving out some details). He went into great detail describing the table incident and then went on to ask his favour of Jack.

“Do you think you could do it?” Cas quietly questioned, looking at Jack hesitantly. He felt like an idiot asking the new God for such a menial thing.

“It’s done!” Jack beamed. Kelly smiled at Jack and fiddled with his hair adoringly. Cas felt like the conversation had been too easy. He had expected Kelly to chastise him for wasting their time. Kelly grinned at Cas and shook her head mischievously.

“You know it’s OK to ask family for help with this kind of thing. You asked Sam to help you move in and build furniture, how is this any different?” she looked to Jack who was nodding with enthusiastic agreement at his Mom.

“This is different though. It’s not running an errand its creatin-“ Cas was cut off mid sentence by the sound of Baby pulling into the driveway.

“Dean!” Jack sprung from his seat and ran to the front door, flinging it open and running down the path at Dean. Dean drops the stacked pizza boxes in his arms and throws them around Jack as if he is a toddler taking a running leap. Observing the pair from the window Kelly turns to Cas and puts her arm around his neck, pulling him in close and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“We really have missed you both.” She whispers as she rubs the spot on his face she just kissed. Cas let his head drop to the top of Kelly’s and gives her an affectionate nudge.

“Our son turned out perfect didn’t he?” Kelly hums in agreement and smiles up at her friend, as she parts her lips to reply a delighted squeal from the hallway interrupts her moment.

“HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!” Dean is standing mouth agape repeating the words to the walls and floor around him while Jack watches the shocked reaction with utter glee.

“It’s your housewarming gift. Do you like it?” Jack waits patiently for Dean to reply, but Dean is still spinning on the spot squealing out with delighted disbelief.

Cas steps into the hallway and his eyes grow wider with every step as he realises what Jack has done. The hallway is completely decorated. The paintwork is perfect, and dry. The wallpaper is hung, pictures are up on the walls, the small shelves and coat stand are assembled and in place. Everything is clean and perfect, even the light from the bulbs in the hallway has changed to a softer glow.

“You finished it for us.” Cas’ voice cracks as he states the obvious. His eyes well with tears as he looks at the pride on Jack’s face and the joy in Dean’s eyes.

“Yes, and I can do the rest of it too if you show me what you want. I only knew what to do in here because you already had all the stuff out here.” Jack nods along at himself as he offers his explanation.

“You can finish the whole house?” Dean exclaims with disbelief. “Isn’t that a little beneath you?”

Jack looks down at his feet momentarily in confusion as Cas steps forwards and places a reassuring hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“What we mean is, you don’t need to waste your time on us. On small tasks like this. You’re so incredibly important to the world now Jack.” Cas squeezes Jack’s shoulder as the words gently leave him. Jack’s lips tilt to one side and his eyebrows raise.

“Well if you don’t want it…” Jack clicks his fingers at the end of the sentence and the hallway returns to its previous unfinished state.

“No!” Horrified, Dean looks over to Jack and his shoulders slump in disappointment. Jack grins and clicks his fingers, the hallway transforming into a place of magnificence once again.

“Show me what the rest is supposed to look like.” Jack beams directly at Dean, knowing full well Dean is more likely to approve of his offer than Cas.

The four spend the rest of the evening working their way through the house and Jack creates the vision Cas and Dean have for each room. Some arguments are had along the way as Dean repeatedly sneaks in requests for extras that Cas doesn’t approve of. Cas gives in on most of them but wins the one about the mirrored ceiling when he reminds Dean of how he had once shattered one with his true voice and almost impaled Dean in the process; Dean had conveniently forgotten about that.

Jack and Kelly hugged them both over and over again before they left, making them both promise to check in more often. A split second before they winged their way out Jack turned to Cas and whispered.

“I haven’t forgotten the other thing. Like I said, it’s done.” Jack winked and disappeared with Kelly clinging onto him, the two of them smiling wildly as their images disappeared.

“What was he talking about?” Dean asked while trying to stifle a yawn.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Cas teased pulling him in for a kiss before he could ask any more questions.

“I hope you’re not too tired.” Cas breathed into Dean’s ear as he tugged lightly on his hair. Dean chuckled lowly and shook his head, taking Cas’ hand and leading him upstairs.

The next morning Cas woke mumbling “Jack?” under his breath. He had been fast asleep, exhausted from his and Dean’s nocturnal activities. He couldn’t remember if had been dreaming but it was the only explanation why he would be waking with Jack on his mind. He considered sending a prayer up to check everything was O.K. when he heard a creak downstairs. Cas softly crept out of bed and made his way out of the bedroom and down the stairs. With trepidation he took a breath and moved into the kitchen. A loud gasp left his lungs as he saw what was before him. He recognised it from its description despite having never seen it before.

“Cas?” Dean’s feet bumped down the stairs at a pace and in seconds he was stood behind Cas in the kitchen doorway, looking over his shoulder.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean’s voice pushed out the words on a single breath and they cracked with emotion. He grabbed Cas’ hand and moved towards the table.

It was an exact replica. Not a lookalike, it was exactly the same as the table from his childhood. The wood was stained in all the same places, the legs were scuffed from where little shoes had kicked against them, slight scratches and pockmarks littered the edges, showing its age, showing the love it had accrued during its time in the Winchester home.

Dean was weeping as he brushed his hands over it. He pulled Cas closer and struggled to find words, instead just gesturing and pointing at the table, frequently allowing his hands up to his face to wipe the tears away. Overcome with emotion at watching Dean take it in Cas could feel his own eyes well with tears and fall down his cheeks, hitting the top of the table and sinking into its worn surface. Dean breathes deeply and looks over at him. With a thumb he wipes away a teardrop that has settled into the crease next to Cas’ nose and then reaches over, locking their lips together in a kiss that mingles with the saltwater falling down their faces.

“You asked him for this?” Dean sobs as he breaks away.

“Yes.” Cas sniffs back as he stares into Dean’s eyes, watching them twitch and well up all over again.

“Thank you.”


	10. What's In A Name?

Cas has a system for laundry. It isn’t rocket science. There are two hampers in the bedroom; one for lights one for darks. He huffs with annoyance as he sits on the floor of their utility room listening to Dean’s explanation from the kitchen about how you could never really be sure if plaid belonged with lights or darks, and how maybe they should get a third hamper for unknowns. Dean’s voice carries on as Cas continues to sort the mixed up laundry into the correct piles. Somehow shirts had made their way in that clearly belonged to Sam, how this could have happened was beyond him. Sam had not stayed overnight on any more than two occasions and had never bought a change of clothing with him. Dean was still pontificating about hampers and had now moved on to suggest they could maybe move them into the spare room. Cas is about to challenge that idea when he notices his old blue tie sticking out from the pile of clothes in front of him. It must have been scooped up accidentally and found its way into the laundry by mistake. He pulls it out and runs it through his fingers. It is still knotted together from the last time he had worn it, he had obviously chosen to pull it off over his head rather than untie it. He couldn’t remember making that decision.

In reality that decision had been made for him, Cas had not chosen to take it off. Lying broken on the floor, with the last of his grace waning Dean had pulled the loose tie over Cas’ head as he pulled his shirt open to check his wounds. His blue suit was charred and splattered with blood, his face unrecognisable, covered with burns, his fingernails were broken and blackened. By some miracle his limbs were still intact although his skin was shredded in places, exposing sinew and bone to the acrid air around them. Cas was dying. He had held open the portal to the empty by himself and taken the direct blast of power Chuck had propelled toward it to prevent Jack from stepping out. Cas had stood there, arms stretched, determined to let Jack go, while Billie had sat nearby chanting in unison with a purple eyed Rowena. It had worked. He had let Jack step into the world restored and powerful enough to grab Chuck and throw him into the empty; sucking Cas’ angelic grace in with it, as Billie had forewarned. It was a job for an Archangel, not a Seraph like Cas. He knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand it but he had done it anyway. Now here he was lying on the ground with Dean fussing over him, trying to work out which wound he should stop from bleeding first.

Jack’s attention was taken away from the scene as he and Billie worked a spell to seal the empty. Chuck was fighting against the other side, Cas was slipping further and further away. Rowena had whispered something to Sam and made him cry out with despair. She held onto Sam’s shirt and begged and pleaded with him as Sam shook his head tearfully, glancing over to Cas and Dean he broke out into a full sob. Dean held Cas’ head as gently as he could and whispered into Cas’ ear.

“If you go. If you leave me, I’ll come with you, I’ll come find you. I’m not losing you again.”

Cas grunted back at Dean unable to muster enough energy to dissuade him or argue. He was too weak to cry, the only pain he could feel was the sharp stab to his heart as he realised he had lost his chance to tell Dean he loved him and to say a real good bye.

“I can stop this.” Rowena said softly above them. “Castiel” Rowena ducked down and stroked his hair. “I can fix your vessel, but it will swallow up the rest of your grace. You won’t be an angel anymore ‘ma darlin’ “

Cas couldn’t answer so Dean did it for him.

“Do it.”

Rowena looked over her shoulder at Sam and her eyes glowed purple as she placed both hands on Cas’ broken face.

“You heard him Sam. Do it.” Rowena’s final order had been delivered with determination and tears in her eyes. Heartfelt goodbyes has never been her style.

Castiel jumped as Dean repeated his name in the doorway. He was still on the floor in the utility room, the blue tie in his hand. Dean was standing above him with a mug of coffee in each hand. His face full of concern and understanding.

“This was in the basket.” Cas dangles the tie from his hand and lets it coil on itself as he lowers it to the floor. Dean looks down at the tie and narrows his lips into a line of regret for a second. Breathing out gently he looks down at Cas and jerks his head signalling Cas to follow him back out into the kitchen. Cas wanders behind Dean who sets the coffee mugs down onto the counter top. Dean turns around and delves his hands deeply into his jeans pockets, fishing around for a second before pulling them out, utility knife grasped in his left hand. Dean tosses it in the air and catches it triumphantly with his right hand grinning at a bemused Cas who is now standing with his arms crossed and brow furrowed.

Dean unclips the knife and leans over the kitchen table and begins to carve into the wood. Cas lifts his eyebrows and his mouth falls open at the shock of Dean defacing the most prized object in their home. After a few minutes of scratching Dean blows the wooden scrapings and dust away and swipes his hands over the ragged engraving. The letters DW sit familiarly at a jaunty angle on the table. Dean looks at Cas and the triumphant smile fades into a loving gaze. He tosses the utility knife to Cas who catches it one handed and looks down at it thoughtfully.

“Your turn.” Cas understands the instruction and he moves his hand outward. Dean grabs his hand and pulls him nearer, guiding his hand to the space adjacent to his own initials. Cas glances over at Dean with a smile and begins to carve. He completes the C and begins to lightly scratch out the S when Dean grabs his hand and pulls the knife away.

“No. You’re doing it wrong.” Dean shakes his head at Cas and smiles.

“What?” Cas is fairly certain he has carved with the same technique as Dean and has placed the lettering exactly where he was instructed to. He doesn’t understand the problem.

“It shouldn’t be an S.” Dean looks down at the carving and continues to softly speak as his hands guide the knife back into the wood. Cas looks down at the lettering, Dean has completed a W. The carving in the table is a definite CW. His hands tremble with confusion for a moment and his eyes refuse to move away from the initials on the table. Dean is moving next to him but Cas is still staring in wonderment at the declaration engraved so permanently into this precious object.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice drifts upwards. Cas turns his head and his eyes drop down to Dean’s position on the floor. Dean is on one knee and nervously fumbling in his pocket while gazing upwards.

“Castiel, will you marry me?” Dean’s hand appears from his pocket, a small black box in his hand. Cas drops beside him, ignoring the box and looking directly into Dean’s eyes, his heart beating so hard he can barely push out his answer.

“Yes Dean,”


	11. Gift List

“We could just call Jack and describe what we want and he would make it all happen.” Dean whined as Cas trudged ahead of him, tapping the scanner in his hand, eyeing the screen with scrutiny.

“No Dean. This is a once in a lifetime experience and I intend to experience it the way other humans get to.” Cas grumbled back at him without letting his eyes leave the screen of the scanner. A woman walking past raised her eyebrows in interest at the “Humans” comment and Dean twirled a finger at his temple while looking at Cas, indicating his fiancé was somewhat insane.

“Bridezilla?” The mystery woman questioned with sympathy.

“Ma’am you have no idea!” Dean muttered in response. Cas looked up disapprovingly and the woman winced and bared her teeth awkwardly as she trotted away.

The scanner bleeped and blipped as Cas and Dean pointed it at various items around the department store, mostly picking out smaller affordable items, nothing over $50 much to the dismay of the sales clerk who was curating their wedding list for them. She was clearly working on commission, but Cas was too sensitive to the wallets of their wedding guests and Dean was too bored to add anything of any real value to the list.

“Remind me why we are doing this?” Dean groaned as he absent mindedly turned over a chenille hot water bottle cover.

“Sam suggested it.” Cas replied, blipping the scanner against a ceramic owl cookie jar with bright gold eyes. He smiled as it reminded him of Jack.

“What does Sammy know about getting married?” Dean huffed, discarding the hot water bottle cover and staring into the weirdly familiar eyes of the owl cookie jar Cas had just scanned.

Cas breathes out impatiently, this was supposed to be fun. They were supposed to be enjoying this, not bitching and whining the whole way around the store.

“Why don’t you go ask for another scanner and pick out something for the bedroom so we can speed things up?” Cas waves the scanner in the general direction of the bedroom section. Dean’s eyes flash with devilment and he disappears amongst the displays calling back to Cas “Meet you at the desk!” as he goes. Cas breathes a sigh of relief and continues to check prices on various kitchen items, scanning as he sees fit.

Twenty minutes later Cas is standing at the customer service desk chatting with the clerk who is uploading the items from the device to the computer screen in front of them. Dean swaggers up behind him and puts his scanner in the plastic holder next to the screen. The clerk smiles politely and blushes as Dean winks at her in return. Cas ignores the casual flirting as he recognises the look on Dean’s face. This isn’t about the girl, Dean is up to something, and is delighted with himself. The clerk turns her attention back to the screen and images of cushions and small decorative ornaments fill the screen in tiny thumbnails. Then, there it is. Cas’ forehead falls into his hands in embarrassment and the clerk’s blush turns from light pink to beetroot red as Dean’s grin spreads across his face. Twelve different pairs of pink panties, ranging from lace, satin and plain cotton flicker up onto the screen. Dean can’t contain his joy and giggles loudly at the scene he has created. Unsure of what to do the clerk clicks on the mouse a few times and fumbles with some unrelated paperwork next to the screen. Her eyes keep darting backwards and forwards to Cas, waiting for him to lift his head from his hands and give her some sensible instruction. Cas takes a deep breath and obliges, leaning forward and studying the screen.

“They’re not even your size.” He says flatly to Dean who is still giggling to himself.

“No. They’re yours.” Dean’s shit eating grin flashes across his face with total satisfaction as Cas instructs the clerk to delete them from the list. Dean pulls his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout and slips his hand down Cas’ back, then lower to his backside. He watches Cas’ shoulders shift slightly at the touch so decides to up the ante a little. Dean skims his hand lightly over Cas’ ass, carving out the firm curve under the denim. Cas is still leaning over the tall counter discussing the various ways the list can be managed and distributed as Dean starts to work his fingers deep into the crack of Cas’ ass through his jeans. Cas tenses and shifts his weight on his feet, he reaches behind with his arm and tries to swat Dean away. The clerk lifts her eyebrows at the movement going on at the other side of the counter and her eyes dart quickly between Cas, Dean and the screen in front of her. Cas kicks a leg out sideways and skilfully lands it on Dean’s knee, not hard enough to actually hurt him, but hard enough to make Dean buckle slightly and send the message.

Dean chuckles to himself triumphantly, he’s less bored than he was earlier but there’s still fun to be had here. He pushes himself away from the counter and leans back, making a public display of eyeing up Cas from top to bottom. He considers for a moment going back in for a feel but then notices the black elastic of Cas’ underwear poking from beneath his waistband.

“Bingo!”

He didn’t mean to say that out loud. Cas turns his head and narrows his eyes, locking onto Dean for a few seconds, his glare morphing from warning to questioning to embarrassed. Cas’ cheeks flush with pink and he turns away, deciding it’s better not to engage with his fiancé’s childish behaviour for the time being.

Dean takes the win and places his hand on the small of Cas’ back. Gently he moves his palm down until it hits the underwear. Feeling smug Dean makes his next move quickly, with a sharp twist and tug he grabs the elastic. Cas reels forwards and yelps in shock, and discomfort, at the wedgie. The clerk stands wide eyed and without saying a word passes a small binder to Cas while moving her eyes over to Dean and blinking wildly at the grown man who has just Melvined his fiancé in public whilst making wedding arrangements. Dean’s smile doesn’t subside, instead he watches with glee as Cas walks away, hand down his pants, fishing his underwear out of his crack and muttering under his breath.

Dean’s initial swagger began to wane as he followed Cas through the store towards the elevators. Cas wasn’t talking, he was flicking through the pages of the small binder in his hand, intermittently looking up to avoid bumping into people and displays.

The further they walked the more Dean began to regret his behaviour back at the desk. There had been years of him teasing Cas, rolling his eyes at him, poking fun at his literal language. He was an easy target. Dean softly sighed to himself as he watched the back of Cas’ head, dipped down, moving slightly as it read the words on whichever page he was looking at. Cas deserved respect; guilt began to bubble in Dean’s stomach. He had taken things too far, poking fun at Cas in public, where he is at his most vulnerable. It wasn’t fair, Dean’s head began to ache as he thought about his lack of impulse control and where it had led them. He felt like a pile of crap.

Outside the elevator Cas snapped the binder shut and breathed in deeply through his nose. Tilting his chin and glancing around the store quickly he turns to Dean and without looking him in the eye claps the binder against Dean’s chest. Dean’s hands clasp over his and catch the binder as Cas walks away, momentarily glancing over his shoulder.

“See you in the car?” Cas offers before disappearing amongst the displays.

“K.” leaves Dean’s lips on an exhaled breath. Shit, he really has pissed him off, today of all days.

The drive home is quiet, Cas has downloaded an app the clerk suggested and spends his time tapping away at it, occasionally humming to himself in either agreement or confusion, Dean can’t be sure which one. His fingers tap impatiently at Baby’s wheel as his head swims with the beginnings of a hundred different apologies. He should just keep it simple and say something out loud, say something about being an ass and use the word “Sorry”. That would be a good start. Dean’s fingers drum even louder and his shoulders tense up pulling him further forward in his seat. He doesn’t say anything.

Back at the house Dean stands in the kitchen. Cas has left the binder from the store on the counter. The front cover has a picture of two wedding rings balanced together and the words “Life begins…” printed in a pretty italic scroll across the top. Dean nudges the binder with his knuckles and exhales deeply, lifting his hand to his temples and rubbing at them in despair. He thought he had got better at this, he expected more from himself these days; it was just an apology, that’s all. Why was he making such a big deal over it. Tossing the Impala keys into the fruit bowl Dean wanders over to the fridge and dips inside to pull out a beer.

“I need those.” Cas strides over to the fruit bowl and grabs the keys, turning around and heading out of the front door, a nervous edge to his speed. Dean closes the fridge door and starts after him.

“You’re leaving?” The pitch and crack in Dean’s voice betrays his panic as he begins to follow.

“No, I just need to go out for a little while.” Cas calls back as the chromed keyhole clunks in agreement to allow him entrance to Baby.

Dean thinks for half a second, his first instinct to race to the car and push Cas over to the passenger side, take control and insist on driving. He can’t do that right now. Cas obviously needs his space and if that means relinquishing control of his pride and joy for a while he knows he will just have to suck it up. Cas will take care of her. Cas _will_ take care of her. Dean curses himself for even thinking about the car when his love is walking away from him. He watches from the window as Cas starts her up and backs out of the driveway, taking it more gently than Dean does, but with just as much confidence. The afternoon sunlight catches and reflects on the black paintwork as the car continues to reverse until it is parallel to the house. Pausing for a second Cas turns his head and looks to the window, catching Dean’s eye. A warm smile spreads over his lips as his hand lifts from the wheel to underneath his lips. The engine revs slightly and Dean feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand as Cas blows him a kiss before pulling away. The sensation continues to prickle over his skin as his jaw drops slightly; what in the hell was that? Forgiveness? Dean is officially confused.

The Impala rumbles smoothly along the road while Cas hums “Piano Man” to himself. He can’t quite believe that Dean has let him go without whining. His humming stops and the sudden realisation hits him; Dean has let him take the Impala, _alone_. Cas presses his lips together for a second and pulls his phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen, expecting to see a message from Dean. There is nothing there. Tucking the phone back into his pocket a lopsided grin sneaks out, his head tilts back and his shoulders relax as his fingers flex on the wheel. _It’s just a car_. Cas considers the passenger seat for a moment and chuckles to himself imagining Dean sitting there, looking back at him, pretending to be OK with Cas driving. It’s all too much, his brain can’t quite conjure the image up. Dean belongs in the driver’s seat, Cas is happy with his place beside him. However; right now he needs the ride, he has plans…

The front door closes softly and Dean watches as Cas passes by the living room door, heading straight into the kitchen.

“Dean?”

The beckoning is gentle with a hint of excitement. Dean follows the sound into the kitchen and tilts his head with curiosity as the figure of Cas comes into view. He is busying himself arranging stiff department store bags on the table, clearly sensing Dean’s approach he spins around, attempting to hide a large bag behind his back.

Dean’s eyes drop to Cas’ side and he can’t help himself from craning his neck to see what is behind Cas’ back.

“I thought you were upstairs.” Cas is blushing slightly, his head dropped to the floor as he looks up at Dean shyly from beneath his lashes.

“No. I was waiting for you to get back…” Dean trails slightly as he struggles to read the situation. He has spent the last hour and a half frustrated as hell trying to unpick this. Feeling brave he decides to keep his promise to himself to apologise to Cas. It’s the right thing to do, regardless of whether Cas is pissed at him or not.

“So… Listen. Ummmm… I’m sorry if I embarrassed you back there. In the store I mean. I just love teasing you and take it too far some-“

“You like teasing me?” Cas steps into Dean’s space. Nose to nose Cas looks Dean in the eye, looks right into his soul. Dean feels his lips begin to quiver and his blood prickle under his skin.

Cas’ eyes drop to Dean’s lips and his own begin to part and pucker slightly.

“Yeah, I like teasing you” Dean gulps, “But I take it too far sometimes. I’m sorry.”

Cas’ nose brushes against the tip of Dean’s and up along the bridge before making its way over to his cheekbone. Dean can’t breathe, or won’t breathe, he isn’t sure, he just wants to know what Cas is thinking.

“Dean. The reason you take it too far…” Cas’s lips move against his as he softly feeds Dean his answer, “You play the clown to stay safe, I know that, you’re learning how to love…” Cas lifts his nose again and rests his forehead against Deans.

Dean watches Cas’ eyelashes flutter upwards, revealing the brilliant blue eyes underneath. His heartbeat quickens and the tingling under his skin races to his cock.

“I think we’re both learning how to love, and that’s OK, because we’re doing it together.” Cas’ earnest response sends Dean’s head spinning, he can’t look at him anymore; the utter relief and absolute joy at being accepted is too much. Grabbing a handful of hair, Dean pulls Cas’ head back and smashes his lips against his. With a muffled moan, Cas returns the pressure. Tongues push into eager mouths and their jaws drop open as a filthy kiss ensues, teeth clacking inelegantly and lips slick and hot as they suck against each other.

Breathlessly pulling away Cas breathes heavily for a moment before swinging his arm round and holding up the paper bag he had been hiding.

“For you.” Commanding Dean’s attention, the bag swings slightly from the end of Cas’ finger. Intrigued, Dean takes it with one hand and pulls out the glossy, golden, slim box inside.

Cas crosses his arms over his chest, fingers in armpits and chews at his cheek with a nervous smile appearing and disappearing as he considers Dean’s actions.

The box is placed on the table and Dean lifts the lid revealing neatly folded tissue paper inside. Dean frowns with interest and glances at Cas, who is still fluctuating between nerves and excitement. Cas gestures at Dean to continue. The paper rustles as it is unfolded. Cas watches Dean pause before his eyes grow wide. Hands reach inside the box and the paper crinkles as pink satin rises from the box. Dean’s fingers tremble slightly as he holds the garment in front of him. Cerise pink elastic lace trims the edges and solid dusty pink satin hangs loosely and delicately at the front and back.

“Are they correct?” Cas is angling his head to gauge Dean’s expression. His pupils are blown and his cheekbones are flushed with a pink almost as deep as the lace.

Dean stutters for a moment, trying to form a response; he can’t tear his eyes away from the gift.

“Cas… You know I was _joking_ right?” Dean finally moves to face Cas whose face has now dropped into a familiar frown of confusion.

“I think…” Cas cocks his head to one side and uncrosses his arms, “I think you _think_ you were joking”. The confusion lifts and is replaced by an intense stare of confidence.

Dean attempts an incredulous response but the words won’t come out, he stutters and stammers as the heat under his skin begins to rise. He can feel his neck and cheeks flush, betraying his thoughts.

“Put them on.” The command is welcome. Dean’s head is swimming again, he wasn’t about to make any decisions for himself.

Dean unzips his hoodie and pulls it down his arms. He pulls his t-shirt over his head before shrugging off his sweat pants and kicking off his sport socks. Cas is watching his every move; for a second his mind starts to scream at him, judging him for even considering acting out this deeply held fantasy, but he feels so safe right now; Cas can silence that voice for him just by being near.

The pants slide up his legs easily at first. As they pass his knees the fabric catches against the hairs on his legs, pulling then soothing with the cool touch of the satin like a lingering kiss. A series of small tugs aids the journey over Dean’s thighs, the elastic stretches as the panties settle into place, taught and stretched over his erection.

Cas reaches for Dean’s face with one hand and brushes it over his cheek. Licking his lips, Cas looks down at the bulging satin and cups his hand over it, firmly stroking and tensing his grip, the satin slides under his hand and Dean shudders at the sensation. Open mouthed kisses resume as Cas continues to work Dean’s length. Cas’ other hand leaves Dean’s face and quickly finds its way behind Dean, landing with a loud, slightly muffled crack against Dean’s ass. Dean groans at the impact, his skin stinging beneath the sleek fabric. His hands shoot up to Cas’ hair and grab and pull as their tongues slide together, licking at each other’s lips whenever they break for air.

His heart pounding, blood surging inside him, Dean can’t take the pressure any longer. He pulls Cas’ head down. Cas tries to pause on the way down, teasing and flicking his tongue over a passing nipple and nipping at the skin on Dean’s stomach. Dean won’t let Cas stop and releases a hand from his hair to push down his shoulders.

Cas’ knees hit the floor and his nose bumps into the swollen damp panties. He breathes against them, taking in the slight hint of musk. Cas pulls his head back and looks up at Dean, who is still gripping his hair tightly. Cas’ lips are swollen and pink, the scruff of his whiskers hides the halo of blush that is spreading over his face, heat is emanating from his desperate lips.

Dean looks down and his cock twitches as Cas runs his hands up his thighs and over his hips, his fingers rest on the elastic lace. Both men find their gazes drawn to the dusky pink, Cas leans forwards and kisses just above them, muttering between movements.

“You’re so beautiful sweetheart.”

The pressure in Dean’s groin surged as Cas spoke the words. The affirmation that he could do this with Cas, he could enjoy a simple fantasy with him, that Cas would still find him attractive, still love him, was too much. Dean’s head falls back as he pushes his hips forward and tugs Cas’ head toward him. Cas answers the call instantly, partly pulling the pants down, revealing Dean’s cock, already slick with come. Long, tanned fingers wrap themselves around the base, Cas’ tongue caresses up to Dean’s tip. It lingers, then circles, then laps against the top. Dean lets out a soft cry as Cas’ mouth takes him in, sucking hard and slow. Cas breathes deeply with every swell of the rhythm he is building, taking Dean deeper and deeper each time. Dean stops trying to hold back the whine he could feel building in his throat, he lets it fall out, deep and low as Cas coughs back and pulls away for a few seconds. With a thick swallow Cas takes Dean in his mouth again as Dean continues to work his fingers through Cas’ hair.

Cas could feel Dean begin to tense and could feel a slight trickle of liquid begin to fill his mouth. Cas pulls off with a pop, he isn’t ready to let Dean go yet.

Dean yelps with disappointment at the absence of the hot, wet mouth, Cas doesn’t give him the opportunity to protest as he quickly springs from the floor and turns Dean around.

Sweeping his arm across the table the box and bags scatter along its length and fall to the floor with an unceremonious clatter. Dean feels a sharp shove to his back, pushing him over the table, a bag rustles before Cas quietly shushes him from behind and a hand slaps down on his rear. Dean’s cock is pressed against the edge of the table, somewhat uncomfortably. As Cas continues to rustle behind him Dean pulls himself up slightly, gaining access to his aching, leaking cock, spilling out of his pretty panties. A sudden movement pulls the panties down past Dean’s knees where they fall the rest of their journey by themselves. Dean shudders as he feels them collect at his feet.

His ass cheeks are pulled apart and a cold trickle of lube slicks its way down his crack and drips as Cas’ finger begins to massage his hole. Wet, biting kisses traverse their way across the small of his back and cheeks as Cas pushes his lubed finger inside, working Dean open roughly and quickly. Dean winces at the stretched, pinching sensation and tightens the grip on his cock, squeezing to encourage the sensation of pleasure lingering in his tip.

The air in the room is sucked in simultaneously by both men as Cas introduces his thick cock to Dean’s widened hole. Cas grunts as he slaps against Dean, using each thrust to get deeper inside. Dean tries to pull himself off as Cas pounds him from behind, his hand gripping tightly and trying to find its tempo, but failing to create any sensation that can even attempt to compete with Cas’ technique. Cas is rough and relentless, grabbing at Dean’s skin, pulling at his hips, panting with abandon. Every beat Cas delivers hits Dean with absolute intensity, white liquid begins to spill over Dean’s hands. His breath hitches and the sounds that leave his body echo through him and around the kitchen before Cas moans in response. The pace increases for a few seconds before Dean feels a warm, wet slick dribble as Cas slows his pace to a soft cadence.

The pair rock together softly, panting. Soft kisses make their way up Dean’s back , creeping up his shoulders and over to his neck. Dean turns to find Cas’ lips and softly return the affection. They stay for a few minutes bent over the table before Cas groans and stiffly pulls himself back.

Dean props himself up on his hands and looks down at the table. Scratched letters stare back up at him, skimming over the D.W. and landing on C.W. He smiles to himself. That’s his man.


	12. Party Hard

“That is one huge clock!”

Hands on her hips and eyes considering the timepiece Jody bumped her hips against Cas; her moment of approval quickly interrupted by a snigger from behind the kitchen counter.

“You admiring my fiancé’s clock Sheriff?”

Springing up from behind the counter with a handful of reusable grocery bags Dean winks at Jody eagerly awaiting her reply. Rolling her eyes she turns on her heels quickly, choosing not engage in an innuendo war. A clatter from the front door accompanied by familiar raucous laughter rattles down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Darn it! I told ya we had too many crammed in there.”

Tumbling into the kitchen, arms piled high with cardboard catering boxes Donna slams the load onto the table and shakes her head. Claire follows behind her, arms equally laden high with boxes and shaking her foot, white frosting flicking everywhere.

“I think I stepped in one.”

Groaning and moving quickly towards the kitchen paper Jody shakes her head and begins to survey the trail of fluffy sugar hanging from Claire’s foot and smeared down the hallway. Claire continues to kick at her boot as Cas and Donna grab the boxes from her arms, blobs of frosting land haphazardly on every nearby surface.

“Can someone get me something to clean this up with?” desperately echoes down the hall. Kneeling down, scooping up a smashed cupcake into a pile Alex glances up too late and takes a smack to the face from the towel Claire has launched at her. The four women all talk at once, yelling instructions to each other in an attempt to clean up the mess; Donna taking it in her stride with a smile, Jody exasperated but efficient, Alex thorough and focused and Claire kicking back in a chair and pulling her boot off, exclaiming “Eeeew!” every few seconds.

Cas pulls open a cupboard door and begins rooting around for cleaning products when Jody pulls at his shirt.

“I got this, you two still need to go get the booze…” Jody is interrupted by Claire declaring the loudest “Eeeew!” so far as Dean stands over her smearing the remaining frosting over her face and laughing maniacally.

“Get him out of here and go get the booze… Get all of the booze.” Jody shoves Cas toward Dean, grabbing both men by their shirt collars and marching them down their hallway and out of the front door, almost knocking down Patience in the process who is sheepishly carrying a large, full garbage bag behind her back.

“What’s in there?” Dean questions over his shoulder as Jody continues to frogmarch them to the Impala. Patience’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush with panic as she begins to stammer for an answer.

“Nothing to concern you yet!” Orders Jody, giving Dean her best ‘Don’t fuck with me’ look as he climbs into the car. “Take as long as you need, ideally around two hours would be great!” Donna stands waving wildy and nodding her head in agreement with Jody’s instruction.

Dean frowns as they pull away from the house and glances over at a perplexed Cas who still has frosting on his fingers.

“What just happened?” Cas mumbles.

“We got kicked out of our own house so they can wreck it with balloons and streamers.” Dean grins as he watches Cas piece the information together while licking the frosting from his fingers.

Exactly two hours and sixteen minutes after leaving the Impala pulls back into its spot on the driveway. Dean spies Sam’s car parked across the street and is suitably distracted by it before he has a chance to survey the front of their house. Cas doesn’t have this problem. Stepping out of the passenger side affords him a better view than Dean. A canvas banner hangs from the upstairs windows, covering almost the width of the house. Strings of fairy lights are blinking along the edge of the banner, overhanging in awkward spots and stretched out in others. Emblazoned on the white background is the message “Congratulations Cas and Dean!” accompanied with a picture of a wedding cake on one side and a flute of champagne on the other. The dusky light is broken up by a faint glow from the solar powered lights newly-staked into the lawn either side of the pathway. The line isn’t exactly straight. Some of the lights are slightly cracked as if they have been hammered in too hard. Cas smiles at himself as he surmises it must be Claire’s haphazard handiwork. He moves onto the lawn and takes his phone out switching to camera mode as Dean catches up behind him. The pair share a chuckle as they turn around to take a selfie with the banner in the background. Dean pulls Cas’ head close as he plants a kiss on his forehead while Cas clicks away. They stand and swipe through the photos quickly, throaty laughs escaping into the night air, lost in competition with the thrumming bass-line coming from indoors.

The bass suddenly becomes louder and clearer as the front door swings open. Sam and Jody grin from either side of the opening and several other familiar faces pop up inside the door and yell various whoops and noises at them.

“Yeah, yeah! Whatever! Where’s the booze?” Jody struts out of the house and towards the Impala, Dean beats her to the trunk and lifts it to triumphantly reveal several crates of beer.

“Alright! But where’s the liquor?” Jody shoves the crates slightly in an attempt to look behind them.

“Liquor! What am I? Made of money?” Dean exclaims, huffing out his chest and grabbing a crate from its spot.

“You had one job Winchester!” Jody yells after him as she grabs a crate and balances another on top before hauling the two together from the trunk and shoving them into Sam’s waiting hands.

“It’s on the backseat. I’ll grab it.” Cas soothes, offering a lopsided smile to Jody, who has now grabbed two crates to carry herself.

With the chaotic energy of a toddler’s chorus line the group follow each other into the house, crates of beer and bottle carriers filled with wine and liquor. Dean was right. The house is filled with balloons and streamers, hanging from every surface and picture frame. Someone has blown up multiple photographs of Cas and Dean and printed them on low-quality paper then defaced them with sharpies. They are unceremoniously taped to the walls at varying heights and angles. Some pictures show Cas with a halo and moustache, Dean had his teeth blacked out and a pair of glasses on another. Sam looks particularly pleased with himself, this is clearly his doing. Cas drops the carriers on the kitchen counter and looks around the room. The ladies are all still there, a few hunters with familiar faces are standing by the glass doors watching or helping one another assemble a patio heater, he can hear Garth somewhere and Bobby is installing batteries into yet another string of fairy lights at the kitchen table. A clinking sound beside him startles him back to attention and a glance to his left reveals Claire studying a bottle of Scotch in her hands.

“I didn’t know you drank the hard stuff, I’m impressed.” She muses, the hint of mockery in her eyes ever present.

“I didn’t buy it for me.” Cas nods over towards the old man with the baseball cap concentrating on screwing the back onto a battery compartment “That’s one thing that both Bobby Singers have in common.”

“Alcoholism?” Claire scoffs loudly. Bobby looks up and scowls directly at her as Cas rolls his eyes, grabs a tumbler and snatches the bottle from Claire’s hands delivering it to a grateful Bobby. Claire takes the opportunity to grab a bottle of vodka from the side and shakes it at Cas.

“What about this? You ever done shots?” Claire was in her element teasing Cas, her eyes sparkled as her smile broadened. Cas, as ever, was cautious interacting with her, he still struggled to find the right balance.

“I’ve done shots. Not vodka, but other liquor.” Cas grabs the bottle from Claire’s hands and moves it along the counter. Alex takes over the bottle’s journey and grabs it glowering a warning at Claire with her eyes as she walks off towards the hunter group. Claire screws her nose up in retaliation and turns her attention back to Cas.

“Sam told me you drank a liquor store once, you know, back when you were still…” The words hang in the air awkwardly as Cas continues unloading bottles, until they are all unpacked. Claire pushes herself away from the counter and she pauses for a second looking at Cas as if her words are stuck somewhere deep inside. With a quick shake of her head and a half-laugh she turns and walks away, leaving Cas with nothing left to do.

Dean’s breath on his neck pulls him back from the dark place he had started to fall into. Hands creep around his waist and pull him in close. The scent of beer creeps from behind and hits his nostrils, it’s not unpleasant, not when it falls from Dean’s lips.

“You try too hard with her.” Dean’s lips brush against Cas’ cheek as he murmurs.

“I don’t know any other way.” Sadness tinges the words as Cas leans back into Dean’s embrace, pulling him closer, seeking security from his touch.

“Just loosen up a little around her, be yourself, she will see you, eventually. I promise she will see you.” The faith in those words was genuine, Dean believed in Cas, he believed that he could overcome anything. For once Cas believed it himself.

A couple of hours passed and the party was now fully underway. The music had increased from thumping to blasting. The living room was hosting smaller pockets of guests loudly chatting, raucous screams, mostly from Donna punching the air every few seconds. The kitchen was alive with movement; food and drink being passed between bodies, half empty cups and plates strewn over most surfaces, guests were standing, dancing, swaying, some drunkenly leaning against walls. The back doors were open against the garden and the patio was filled with chairs and cushions, most closely huddled near the heater. More chat and back slapping was filling the air as hunters swapped their favourite Winchester stories while Sam and Dean sat with their mouths agape at the level of accuracy in the tales. Cas leaned in the doorway, occasionally correcting solecisms, which made Dean wince awkwardly.

Cas wasn’t sure how long Claire had been standing in the kitchen watching him, but he knew she was there. She had clearly managed to sneak some booze while Jody had been distracted. Leaning against the kitchen counter her eyelids drooped occasionally and her shoulders slumped as her head lolled to the side. Cas glanced over his shoulder to see if he could find Jody, someone should go and check on Claire, he didn’t want it to be him. His eyes searched the ruckus of the party but Jody wasn’t nearby. Donna was hauling herself up onto the table and screaming something about a hoe-down; this didn’t look promising. Turning his attention back to Claire she had her back turned to him, she was facing the sink, was she heaving? Cas felt his heart pound and threw his hand to his chest at the sensation, panic began to bubble as he looked for signs she was OK. He was going to have to check, Claire might be sick and nobody else seemed to notice.

Placing his hand on her shoulder Cas squeezed gently and considered how he could offer an enquiry without being intrusive.

“Claire?”

Blonde hair whipped quickly and a quizzical eyebrow was raised in response.

“Claire, are you OK?” Cas stepped back as her eyes rolled in response to his question. Her cheeks were flushed pink and eyeliner was smudged a little more than normal, but she looked OK. A quick glance in the sink revealed shiny chrome free from any tell-tale signs of sickness.

“You though I was puking? You think I’m drunk?” Claire sighed leaning her hips against the sink and shaking her head as Cas met her eyes. Cas’ inner monologue was telling him not to apologise for being concerned, he was the adult in this situation, she’s a minor, and whatever complications there were in the relationship he wasn’t going to allow himself to be intimidated. It was a good pep talk to himself, it was a shame Claire wasn’t buying it.

“This coming from a guy who once ‘drank a liquor store’” Claire cackled to herself at her attempt to impersonate his gravelly tone. “So, what are your thoughts on booze now? Can’t exactly be tee-total when you live with Dean” Claire grabbed a half empty bottle of vodka from the hands of a giddy hunter walking by and began to unscrew the lid. Cas grabbed the bottle from her hands and scowled in response, Claire grinned triumphantly, she enjoyed goading him and he knew it.

“No fair.” Claire grumbled, “I was going to add it to the kiddie’s punch bowl.” Claire pointed to the large punchbowl with a “Designated drivers only” sign hanging from it.

“Alex put that together for the non-drinkers” Cas chided.

“Alex is lame. Besides, can you see any non-drinkers?” Claire gestured her hands around the room, Cas had to admit he could see her point; everyone in the room was either drinking or drunk, he was probably the last sober adult in the room.

Cas unscrewed the cap from the vodka and put the bottle to his lips. Alcohol didn’t affect him massively as an angel, and as a human he had yet to acquire a taste for it, he wasn’t prepared for the sting the liquid brought to the back of his throat after chugging several large mouthfuls. Cas’ eyes began to water as he tried to stifle the cough tickling his oesophagus. Claire folded her arms and her jaw dropped with a wide smile hitting her lips as she watched him try to style the moment out.

“You OK champ?” Claire pouted as she patronised, her hand held out between them beckoning for the bottle to be passed back to her.

“No way” Cas shook his head denying her access to it. A wave of indignation passed over him as he decided to take another chug, just to prove, well Cas wasn’t sure exactly what he was proving.

Half an hour later Cas and Claire were sat next to each other on the kitchen floor backs pressed up against the kitchen cupboards. The bottle of vodka now empty in Cas’ hands. Claire took the bottle and turned it upside down, considering the amount that Cas had managed to finish off. Cas’ head was tilted backwards, his head leaning on the door. The movement of the kitchen was no longer restricted to the people within it. Now it felt as if the very floor itself was moving. He knew what drunk felt like, he had been drunk before, briefly, but this was different. His limbs felt heavy, his eyes wanted to close, Claire was talking to him, sharing tales about her solo hunting trips, but he had zoned out. He could feel his eyes closing as he heard the words

“I try not to blame you. I really do. You saved the world, it’s just hard you know?”

Cas didn’t need to be sober to know what she was talking about, if he had been sober his answer would have been more careful, more considered.

“Jimmy died because of me. I don’t know how you do it. I don’t know how you can even look at me.”

A soft sigh was the only response from Claire. Cas continued with his uninhibited answer.

“Its not supposed to happen this way, if a vessel doesn’t survive the angel is supposed to find a new one. I don’t know how it happened, I don’t know why I was able to keep Jimmy’s image. He was a good man. I don’t deserve to keep him, but I don’t know who I would be without him.”

Claire’s eyes were watering and she turned her head away so Cas couldn’t see the tears that began to fall.

“My true form, it’s not anywhere near human. I can’t share it with any of you… I mean I couldn’t share it with any of you. I REALLY can’t share it now because it’s gone, it’s gone forever, my grace, my wings… It’s gone.”

Claire breathed deeply and turned to face Cas, her eyes filled with tears, Cas couldn’t read her expression, it was too much to figure out while his brain was bobbing in his head.

“Its not true.” Claire spoke softly, the words tripping over her trembling bottom lip. “It’s not true. You did share your true form with someone. You shared it with me.”

Cas hummed gently as his mind grabbed at the memory. Small Claire in that warehouse, alone and afraid. She was right, he had revealed himself to her, and she wasn’t scared, not of him anyway. Claire had always been feisty, she had always believed. Not many humans could withstand seeing an angel’s true form.

“You were special. You ARE special, and I know your Dad… Your Dad he loved you more than anything else in the world.”

Cas moved his heavy hand to her face and pulled her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, clumsily missing strands. Claire was sobbing now, heavily and throatily. He couldn’t stop the words from falling out, they were slightly slurred and his tone had dropped at least two octaves but for the first time he felt like Claire was hearing him. His face felt wet, he didn’t know how long he had been crying.

“Angels aren’t supposed to feel anything. They don’t understand emotion. They don’t know love. People have said that I’m different, but I don’t think it was me. I think it was your Dad. He loved you so much, it bled through. I learned it from him. That’s not supposed to happen, but it did.”

Hands shooting up to her face to cover her eyes, Claire’s shoulders bobbing up and down in time to the ragged sobs, Claire was breaking down all of her walls. Cas had no idea if this was a good thing or not, but he wasn’t stopping to think about it. His hand moved away from her ear and hooked around her neck pulling her into his chest. Drawing his knees up Claire was sandwiched in an awkward embrace, salty water dampening her hair as it fell from both pairs of eyes held in the hug.

“I don’t know who I would be without him” Cas sobbed.

“I forgive you.” Softly drifted up from his lap, Claire’s fingers squeezed where they had landed around Cas’ legs. Cas let his head fall into the back of Claire’s curls and felt a vibration as she began to chuckle, before abruptly sitting up, giggling to herself as she wiped her eyes.

“You know what’s weird?” Claire didn’t wait for an answer and carried on talking at Cas’ wet face “Watching your Dad’s identical twin neck with Dean Winchester. That’s weird. My Dad didn’t even really kiss my Mom like that.”

“Oh he did!” Cas declared with delight. “He did! Your Mom and Dad were hot together!”

“No! Oh my God! You are sick!” Claire threw a punch that landed deep in Cas’ thigh, luckily the vodka anaesthetic numbed the pain he should have felt. Cas erupted with laughter, this was completely inappropriate but he had finally found a way to bait Claire.

“I mean it taught me a…” Cas couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out as Claire launched herself on him and pinned him to the floor, covering his mouth with her hands.

“STOP!” Claire was half laughing at the ludicrous conversation but also suitably grossed out.

Cas tried, and failed to grab at her arms to stop the beating he was enduring, trying to prevent hurting her in the process, but it was no use. Then a burning sensation began to creep up from his stomach. He tried to warn her but it happened too fast. With a gurgle Cas’ mouth exploded, faintly brown liquid spewing from his mouth, projecting upwards towards Claire but losing trajectory and falling down onto his neck and chest.

“Deeeeeaaaaaaannnnnn!” Claire sprang back quickly and pulled a choking Cas up from the floor and into an upright position. Dean appeared from the other side of the kitchen counter. Cas and Claire hadn’t realised before but the kitchen was now virtually empty, most had left already.

“Oh sweetheart!” Dean kneeled down beside Cas who was still slightly gurgling and unable to make eye contact. “What’s he been drinking?”

Claire held up the empty vodka bottle and shook it gently in Cas’ direction, the innocent look on her face absolving her of any responsibility of involvement. Dean’s brows raised together in concern but the look was quickly replaced by a grimace of disgust as a second blast of vomit made its way from Cas and hit the floor between them. A glass of water and a damp washcloth appeared as Alex moved Claire out of the way, eyeing her suspiciously as she did so. After a few minutes of Alex fussing, asking Cas questions, making him sip water and wiping his face she instructed Dean to take him to bed. Jody and Dean hauled Cas to his feet and walked him towards the hallway, stumbling along the way, Dean chuckling whenever Cas protested that he was fine. Once inside the bedroom Jody disappeared back downstairs and began the task of shepherding the ladies to their various sleeping spots in the house.

Dean began to pull at Cas’ boots, smiling to himself at the sight of his half unconscious fiancé lying on the bed, hair mussed and face still damp from the clean down. Cas began to murmur softly, the words only forming part way through a sentence;

“…and Dean, I dunno if he would love me if I looked different.”

Dean smirked to himself and tugged at Cas’ socks.

“Of course I would.” He replied, not knowing if Cas could hear or understand.

“…we got together, after. Hmmmm the apocalypse. I just told him. I did. I just said ‘Dean I can’t live without you.’ I just told him that.” Cas allowed a hiccup to finish the sentence.

The smirk remained in place as Dean frowned at the messy tale.

“That isn’t what you said.” Dean leaned forward and unbuckled Cas’ belt. “You said you couldn’t live knowing I couldn’t love you back.” Dean unbuttoned and unzipped Cas’ fly. “Then you said that you knew I loved you as a friend or brother…” Dean tugged Cas’ jeans over his hips. “Then, then you said that it wasn’t like that for you, you loved me completely,” Dean pulled at the ankles of the jeans and watched as they revealed thick tanned thighs.

“Then you said I was wrong.” Cas had opened his eyes and was looking up at Dean, he had slurred the words but they were accurate.

Dean folded the jeans and gently tossed them onto the hamper. “I did say that.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling and lips curving gently as he moved around the bed, watching Cas’ drunken struggle to follow his movement. “I also told you that I had always loved you completely and I was scared.” Dean moved his hands between Cas and the mattress and grabbed the bottom of his tee-shirt, Cas lifted his arms in response, allowing Dean to finish undressing him. “I said I was scared that if I told you things would never be the same with us again, and I had lost you so many times, I couldn’t lose you again.” Dean tugged the shirt over Cas’ head and threw it to the floor, he moved in closer to Cas, pressing their foreheads together before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. Cas’ hand jerked up from its place on the bed and smartly smacked Dean on the cheek, before grabbing his jaw and pulling him in for another, deeper kiss. Dean chuckled through the clumsiness of Cas’ tongue not knowing where it was going and pulled away in case of further vomiting. Cas grinned wildly, is eyes closed and huffed slightly as he declared

“We were clowns.”


	13. R.S.V.P.

Liberty has a few options for weddings. Cas and Dean had been surprised by the choice; there was a golf club, riding stables and a large chain hotel on the outskirts of town. They toyed with the idea of having the ceremony at the bunker or at home but were put off the idea after the clean-up following their party.

The small inn was imperfect. The road leading to it was a dirt track that clogged with mud when it rained. The large lawn that sits at the front of the property has a steep incline rendering it useless as a space. Slightly peeling paintwork reveals the time-lapse between the last renovation and today. Dark green and brown vines creep up from the surrounding garden and wind their way along the fretwork of the porch and upper balconies, buds of leaves press their way through the thicket of botany looking for light. The light is abundant. Despite the surroundings of lofty trees and densely knitted foliage the sky lights up the entire area. Not a single shadow sits over the inn. Or at least not during daylight; the inn shows its age and cracks but somehow wins over them while it bathes in the bright sunlight gradually increasing above it.

A hand painted sign, simplistic but attractive swings from the side of the veranda. “The Beekeeper Inn” makes Dean smile every time he sees it. Images of Cas befuddled and confused carrying around pockets filled with honey and lying naked on the hood of his car covered in bees was something not easily forgotten. Once again it was a tainted memory, but a good one nonetheless.

A space had been allocated at the back of the inn for Dean to keep Baby. The rest of the guests had to use the parking service provided by the inn. Sam unloaded the garment bags from the back seat, carefully cradling them ensuring they didn’t crease. Dean quietly lifted the bags from the trunk, slamming it shut before glancing at his younger brother who was already making his way around the front of the inn. Leaving the bags in their place on the floor Dean walked around the side of the building towards the large red barn which sat nestled in the safety of the small forest adjacent. Catering staff were busying themselves striding purposefully in and out of the large red doors, boxes and stacks or glasses and plates were balanced in the arms of young adults all wearing black and white uniforms. Matching grey aprons with beehives embroidered on the front danced by him in the hustle and bustle. Dean dodged and weaved his way inside, his breath left his lungs in a single gasp as his eyes widened to take in the sight before him. The barn was lit from above with hundreds of rows of white fairy lights, the light was dazzling but also warm and soft. The lights trailed down in the corners and collected together more thickly in the eaves. Some of them twinkled and danced as a team with black tee shirts played with the control system rigged up and hidden in a corner behind a large red velvet curtain. Dean followed the pleats of the curtain to where it pooled on the floor, the figure of an older lady was fusing over a large arrangement of flowers in a floor standing vase, he cocked his head as he recognised the smile that accompanied the wave tossed in his direction from Missy. She had insisted on taking care of the floral arrangements, Dean and Cas had been dubious about letting her loose as her taste didn’t exactly match theirs but Dean had to admit they looked fabulous. Missy had mainly chosen large green foliage and the erratic white dotted buds of gypsophila, with a few blue hyacinths added here and there for height. The collection of blue and green dotted around the room was stunning. Flowers adorned the backs of every chair and sat at the edge of the grey carpet which led up to the steps of the ceremony stage.

Dean stared at the stage. It wasn’t complete yet, staff were adding finishing touches, the table for signing the wedding licence at the back wasn’t dressed and a girl in a black tee shirt was fiddling with wires attached to the sound system.

“Almost there!” the chirpy tone of the inn owner startled Dean slightly as she appeared next to him, “You know it will look stunning when its lit properly and we’ve finished dressing it.”

“It’s perfect.” Dean cleared his throat as he felt his voice crack when saying the words. The innkeeper patted him on the shoulder and winked before twirling him roughly and pointing him towards the doors.

“Your fiancé is here. He’s all checked in. I’ve got you in separate rooms for now, he’s in the honeymoon suite, you and your brother are in room 12, that’s 2nd floor. So you shouldn’t bump into each other before the ceremony.” Her hands remained in the small of Dean’s back as she continued to frogmarch him towards the inn. Dean hesitated near Baby and was about to turn back to grab the bags he had left on the floor earlier when the innkeeper continued;

“I’ve had your bags taken to your room, if there’s anything in there you want taken to the suite then just dial 100 and holler for me, I’m Lindsey, I’ll send someone up to take care of it.”

They passed through the back doorway of the inn which took them into a small but bustling kitchen, Dean thought he saw the outline of a three tiered wedding cake but Lindsey hurried him through too quickly for a decent look. Dean quickly found himself at the bottom of the stairs and Lindsey pushed a key into his hand.

“Your brother has one too.” She smiled gently. “Two hours and you’ll be back down here, I’ll see you then.” With a slight squeeze of his shoulder Lindsey let her hands drop away and moved off calling after some young staff who were carrying stacks of linen. Dean looked up at the narrow wooden staircase in front of him and began to climb.

The doors were thick and heavy. Each one had a metalwork beehive emblem with number engraved on it sitting in the top centre. Number twelve was at the end of the corridor, Dean had climbed the staff staircase to avoid passing the corridor where Cas was stationed. He paused outside the door and looked down the length of the hallway. A bright window sat at the end a right turn leading to the main staircase for guests and a left turn that led around a corner to another hallway of doors. The honeymoon suite was at the end of that corridor. He considered taking a wander down there for a minute, not to disturb Cas, just to be near him for a moment. Two hours felt like an eternity. Before he had chance to give in to temptation the door to room twelve opened with a seasoned creak.

“I thought it was you.” Sam smiled warmly. “Was getting worried you’d gone for a wander or something.”

“No.” Dean shook his head and shrugged as he shuffled past Sam and into the room. The walls were a flat, light grey. Simple dark wood furniture stood freestanding around the room, the wall behind the bed papered with a darker grey and adorned with golden bees that glinted in the light spilling in from the windows. Hanging over the door of the large wardrobe Sam and Dean’s suits shone slightly. The sharp press of the lines elegantly contrasting with the gloss and curve of the wardrobe doors behind them.

“Better than the FBI suits.” Sam chuckled as he unpacked a boxed pair of shoes. “Have you worn these in yet?” He turned the shoes over in his hands inspecting the soles.

“Didn’t need to, they’re a perfect fit.” Dean dropped onto the bed and leaned over to untie his boots.

“They’re nice. I should have had Bobby to take me to buy a pair too.” Sam placed them carefully on top of the ottoman at the end of the bed before sitting down next to his brother. Dean had loosened his laces and was kicking his boots off clumsily, cursing under his breath, tension making his shoulders rise to his ears.

“You OK?” Sam questioned. The lack of immediate response spoke volumes. He knew his brother well enough to understand that this was an alien concept to Dean. The focus of the day was on him and Cas and their love for each other. They had spent so many years hiding it that it was still a little hard to believe that things had moved on to this stage. Sam knew Dean wouldn’t respond to a softly, softly approach.

“You wanna call it off?” He risked the question knowing full well what the response would be.

“Hell no! What? Are you crazy?” Dean jumped up from the bed and frowned at Sam who was smirking up at him, arms and legs crossed and eyes dancing with challenge.

“So nothings wrong?” Sam wiggled his resting foot and his jaw slid his smile to the side.

“Nothings wrong.” Dean mimicked, his chest fell as he breathed out heavily. “It’s just…”

“You’re getting married.” Sam offered with a soft tilt of his head.

“I’m getting married!” Dean quietly repeated, his eyes watering and his cheeks flushing with pink. Sam jumped up from the bed and threw his arms around Dean, squeezing him tightly before chuckling out loud;

“Who’d have thought it?”

Lindsey knocked on the door of the honeymoon suite which swung open quickly before she managed the last knock. Her jaw fell open as she looked at Jack. He was a good looking boy, that was certain but there was something else about this young man, something she couldn’t put her finger on… Distracted from her duty Lindsey jumped as he finally spoke.

“May I help you?” his sweet tone formal but sincere.

“Ummm yes, I have the buttonhole for Cas, Missy was going to bring it up herself but the stairs are a bit much for her.” Lindsey stammered as she held out a small paper box.

“That is very kind of you Lindsey. I’ll pass it on to him. Thank you.” Jack smiled a toothy grin back at the bemused innkeeper and shut the door.

“This is for you.” Jack held the box out to Cas who was standing in the middle of the room while Claire and Kelly fussed over his sleeves.

“Just put it on the dressing table for now sweetie” Kelly chimed as she smoothed over the rolled up sleeve. “I like this look on you” she picked a small piece of lint from Cas’ shoulder as she continued to fuss.

“Pull your suspenders on, we need to work out what to do with this.” Claire had picked the button hole up from where Jack had placed it and was fiddling with the pin. Cas followed her instructions and pulled the suspenders up over his white shirt. Kelly straightened the bow tie at his neck, a wide smile on her face and tears in her eyes.

“It can just go here, if you were wearing a jacket the button hole would be right here” Kelly jabbed at the left side of Cas’ chest making him wince slightly at her enthusiasm.

“Should I have worn a full suit? Is it strange that I’m not?” his voice uncertain and slightly panicked.

“No, You spent years in the same dumb ass look.” Claire was looming in front of him with the flower and a large pin in her hand. Kelly carefully plucked the flower and pin from Claire’s grasp and began to attach it to Cas’ shirt.

“There!” with a pat of triumph on each shoulder Kelly stepped back and moved aside so Cas could see his reflection in the mirror. “You look perfect.” Cas felt his cheeks warm as he looked back at himself. Jack, Kelly and Claire all reflected next to him, each one smiling and hiding tears. He cleared his throat softly before whispering;

“OK. I’m ready.”

Standing at the bottom of the aisle looking towards the ceremony stage Dean watched the guests pour in through the barn door. He struggled to recognise some, there was a distinct lack of flannel, everybody was wearing suits. He laughed to himself as he looked over at Garth who was clearly wearing his FBI suit, Dean recognised singed sleeve, he was fairly sure if he got close enough he would be able to smell the burned fabric. Jody and Donna waved frantically at him from their seats at the front, with Alex and Patience both trying to calm them into settling into their seats.

Lindsey had been right. The lighting made all the difference. The barn was ethereal, it was bright and welcoming like stepping into a dream. Missy’s floral arrangements stood tall and elegant, blue and green, their scent drifting on the air. A warm buzz of conversation began to mute as the soft strings of a violin solo began to swell from hidden spaces around the barn.

Sam tugged on Dean’s sleeve and leaned in to whisper.

“It’s time.”

The violin continued to sing and was joined in its rejoice by the serenade of the rest of the quartet, lulling the guests into almost silence as they turned their heads to watch the end of the aisle where Sam and Dean were stood next to each other. With one last look at his brother, they began to walk the soft carpet ahead of them. Dean could feel his heart swell as the music played and each face he passed smiled at them, he could feel Sam walking taller than normal beside him, could sense the broad smile on the Moose’s face. This was terrifying, but easy and he was loving every second of it.

As the brothers took their spot they turned to watch as Kelly and Claire swept up the aisle in matching golden, satin dresses. Claire’s hair was a cascade of, mostly, tamed curls. Her make up toned down, without her usual dark eyeliner. Kelly’s smile lit up her blue eyes, her lips were igniting with gloss and her dark hair was swept to the side in a neat chignon. Dean was grinning at the sight when the silhouette behind them came into view.

As Claire and Kelly took their spots the blurry figures started to walk into view. Cas and Jack walked shoulder to shoulder up the aisle. Cas’ eyes were wide, his dark lashes were already damp, his lips pressed together. Jack was watching his expression with wonder, never taking his eyes off Cas.

As Cas came closer the lights above them began to flicker gently, a slight murmur rippled through the guests and heads tilted upwards with gasps as the lights began to dance like fireflies. In fact the lights weren’t dancing, orbs of celestial light were forming amongst the bulbs. The lights began to fall, prancing down towards the guests playfully and spiralling into gaps in the seating. The guests began to shuffle amongst themselves and small yelps were heard as each orb let out a chiming vibration as it hit an empty seat.

Sam, Dean and Cas all stood frozen to the spot not knowing what to do. Dean instinctively reached for his gun, it wasn’t there of course. Before fully fledged panic could set in Cas and Jack reached the spot opposite him and Dean and Cas was gripping Jack’s shoulder. Before he could speak Jack smiled broadly at the falling lights and held open his arms to them.

“Don’t worry. This is your wedding gift from me.” Jack beamed as he looked back at the panicked faces of the Winchesters and Cas. The humming intensified before transforming into a tune that sounded like a dozen nightingales singing for the first time. The lights began to swell and stretch, within a second each light had transformed into the figure of a person. The guests gasped as familiar faces appeared around and amongst them.

Cas grabbed Dean’s hand as the realisation hit them; there was Charlie and _their_ Bobby sitting in the front row. Eileen was behind them signing “Hello handsome” to Sam. Jo and Ellen were sitting in the middle row separated by a dumbstruck hunter who was still with shock or fear, maybe both. Ash and Pamela were giggling to each other at the back of the room, Pamela resting her feet on the back of the chair in front. Sitting on Castiel’s side Gabriel, was trying to look nonchalant and was succeeding until he caught Cas’ eye, at which point he bit his lip and turned his head, brushing his hand on his cheek. Balthazar was next to him pointing at the falling tears and laughing silently but with enough exaggeration to draw attention.

Cas smiled at the sight of his family, however displaced they had been before their deaths there had always been love. His attention was stolen away as he spied Claire’s expression. She was frozen staring at a spot in the crowd. Cas followed her gaze. Jimmy and Amelia Novak were sat together, Amelia’s head on Jimmy’s shoulder, Jimmy blowing Claire a kiss. Cas watched as Claire’s face lit up like he had never seen before, his eyes drew back to Jimmy who was looking back at him. Jimmy eyed Cas up and down before raising his eyebrows and flashing a gummy grin accompanied with a thumbs up. Cas felt himself tremble as he took the approval from the younger version of his vessel. He had never felt more like himself.

“I’m sorry for the interruption everyone. We should most definitely continue now.” Jack announced, making the buzz that had come back over the crowd die down.

“Just a minute, I haven’t taken MY place yet!” the shrill accented voice was unmistakable and Sam stepped down from the stage as Rowena manifested from an orb below them. Dean laughed as Rowena revealed herself in the same golden dress that Kelly and Claire were wearing.

“What? You don’t think Miss Congress over there picked this out by herself do you?” Rowena threw a teasing look to Kelly with the comment as she marched over to join the bridesmaids. Dean watched as Sam stepped back up to the stage and that was when he noticed who had been sitting directly behind them.

John and Mary were sitting hand in hand, both smiling at their boys, their heads angled together, touching as they beamed with pride. John gestured over at Dean to turn around and carry on. Dean has stopped breathing, his eyes unable to tear themselves away from the sight of his parents. The officiator cleared his throat behind him and quietly offered “Should we begin?”

Dean was entranced, he couldn’t feel his limbs, the room was still twinkling and twirling around him. A tug at his sleeve tried to pull him back into the room, he knew it was Cas, but he was still in shock, his mouth remained agape until;

“Bloody get on with it!” growled impatiently from the back of the Barn. Crowley was leaning against a wall trying to look like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Ugh, not today!” sounded from Cas with feigned contempt for their old ally. Dean spun around and laughed at the look of disgust on Cas’ face.

“Well I wasn’t expecting that expression today.” Dean’s pointed finger caught on Cas’ bottom lip as he spoke to his groom. Cas smiled with more warmth than he had ever managed to muster, Dean returned the gesture with eye crinkles and twinkling eyes.

The officiator cleared his voice once again and repeated his question;

“Shall we begin gentlemen?”

The end.


End file.
